


Two Is Company

by bigblueboxat221b, OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein
Genre: After Gander, Cultural Differences, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Isolation, Past Domestic Violence, Sharing a Bed, They didn't kiss in Gander, do not copy to another site, falling asleep together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: Everyone flying into the United States must self-isolate for two weeks. The idea of sitting alone in a hotel room is pretty grim, so Diane offers Nick to stay with her instead.
Relationships: Nick/Diane
Comments: 19
Kudos: 18





	1. Day Zero - Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> It was inevitable, really - the Come From Away isolation story! Who would have thought someone would write one of these right now?! Updates will be sporadic but I'm hoping to make this a longer, slower burn, so let's see where it takes us.  
> Stay safe, stay home, stay kind <3
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not RPF  
> While Nick and Diane in the musical are based on real people, this story is set strictly in the fictional representation of them in the musical, ‘Come From Away’. I haven’t done any research into their personal lives, and anything further than what is canon in the musical is completely made up, with the exception of some geographical details. This is not intended to represent the real life couple in any way, their thoughts, attitudes or actions. It’s just my brain saying, ‘what if?’, as it does to every story that resonates with me.

“So, we’re all meant to go into,” Diane paused, remembering the pompous sounding phrase, “self-isolation?”

“Yes,” the flight attendant said. “Anyone coming into the United States must self-isolate for fourteen days.”

“I can’t believe it,” Diane whispered. How had all this happened in such a short time?

“And what about people flying out immediately?” Nick asked from beside her.

“You won’t be allowed to leave until the isolation period is over,” the flight attendant said apologetically. “It’s the last thing we need, I know, but the CDC is worried about how fast this new virus might spread, and they announced it today. Your passport will be flagged as you enter and you won’t be allowed to leave for two weeks.”

“But Nick’s not from here,” Diane said, knowing her voice sounded desperate. “What’s he supposed to do?”

“Some of the hotels in town are providing rooms,” the response came. “There are buses driving people directly to the hotels, and you’ll have to stay in your room.”

“What, on my own?” Nick asked. “For two weeks?”

“I’m sorry, yes,” the flight attendant said. “I’m sorry, I need to keep moving.”

Nick and Diane turned to each other, speechless. “Well that doesn’t sound like much fun,” Nick said.  
“I have to call my sister,” Diane said. “Will you come with me?”

The line for the phones was long, of course, and it was over an hour before she reached her sister. The conversation was short, but when she finished, Diane had a plan.

“My sister figured this might happen,” she said. “The whole city’s been locked down since yesterday. Before that she went to the store and bought a heap of food and essentials, enough to keep me going.”

“How kind,” Nick said. He blew out a breath. “I’m pleased to hear you’ll be alright.”

“She thinks there’ll be enough for two,” Diane told him. “She tends to go a bit over the top when it comes to catering.”

“What?”

“You could come and stay with me,” Diane said. “At my apartment.”

“For two weeks?” Nick asked. His eyes were searching her face, disbelief writ large on his own.

“Sure,” Diane said. “They can’t say no, what if that was the plan anyway?” She refused to let the blush threatening warm her cheeks. “Assuming you can put up with me for two whole weeks.”

Nick was still looking at her as though she wasn’t quite sane. Diane waited, hoping he would take her up on her offer. She’d lived with the regret of not kissing him on the plane for the whole flight, and this would be the perfect opportunity to see if there was actually something there or not. She’d been so mixed up about going home, and what had happened in the first place. This would give her a chance to focus on Nick. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted right now, but having him close for another two weeks would be a great start. At least she would know at the end of the two weeks.

“If you’re sure,” he said.

Diane hoped he couldn’t see her motivation. “Of course,” she said.

They moved through customs as slow as cold molasses. Nick had to give Diane’s address, and they both had to sign documents promising they would have no contact with the outside world unless it was a medical emergency. They were directed to a bus stop at which a coach collected them and noted the address. Apparently it was taking a bunch of people out in the same general direction to try and minimise the number of cab drivers exposed.

As they moved closer to her apartment, Diane felt doubt creep in. Had she done the right thing? What if Nick thought this was an invitation into her bed? She just wanted to have him close. True, she regretted not kissing him, but she hadn’t been entirely sure that was what he was going for and he certainly hadn’t tried again. There had been all those moments in Gander and she’d been too cowardly to just ask him face to face.

“Gray and Marson!”

The driver announced their names, pulling their suitcases out and leaving them on the sidewalk before the coach trundled away again.

Diane looked up at her building, then back at Nick. He smiled at her, hands ready to bring both suitcases inside.

_Probably should have told him it’s a three story walkup right now._

“Elevator broke the day before I left,” Diane told him as they finally made it up to her apartment. “I was hoping it would be fixed by now but Emily said it wasn’t.”

She turned to look at Nick, who was breathing hard. “It’s fine,” he said with a breathless grin.

Diane rolled her eyes at him. She pulled out her keys and opened the door, holding it open for him to wheel the suitcases past and inside.

“Well, this is where you’ve volunteered to spend the next two weeks,” Diane said self-consciously. It felt a lot smaller with Nick there too, she thought, throwing her keys in the bowl by the door. “It’s not huge. You might have been better to stay in the hotel.”

“On my own for two weeks?” Nick asked, turning to look at her. “A week ago I would have said that would be fine.” He smiled self-consciously. “After so many people in Gander I think it would be very strange to be on my own in a room for so long.”

Diane nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“Thank you for this,” Nick said. He took a hesitant step closer. “Really. I’m not sure I would have survived two weeks of hotel meals and local daytime television.”

“So that’s the standard I have to beat?” Diane asked with a smile of her own. She shivered, a sudden something skittering down her back. “It’s strange being here.”

“Home?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” Diane said. “But all this space and no other people.”

“It’s quiet,” Nick agreed.

“Yes,” Diane said, feeling guilt flash in her heart that she hadn’t corrected his assumption.

_I meant being here with you, too._

_You say quiet, I say intimate._

_Stop it, Diane._

“Well, we have two weeks to get used to it,” Nick said.

Diane hummed, looking around. It was as she’d left it, of course, but something felt different. It was probably just having another person there. She didn’t often have visitors. And never were they men she’d just met from the other side of the world that would be staying with her for two weeks in isolation.

That was probably why it was weird.

And she was firmly sticking to that for now.

“Okay, well let me give you the tour,” Diane said. “It’s pretty small.”

“Cozy,” Nick said with a smile. “It’s wonderfully inviting.”

Diane blushed. “I painted when I moved in,” she said, running one hand over the eggshell blue walls. “And most of the furniture is newish. To me, at least.”

She didn’t tell him that she’d been waiting until David moved out to sell the house they’d lived in since before his father moved out. This small place was hers, and hers alone; most of the furniture was second hand, loved enough to be comfortable and exactly what she wanted it to be. There were no memories here except the ones she wanted.

“Well, kitchen and living room,” Diane said. “Obviously.”

Nick nodded. His hands were folded in front of him as he looked around the room, and Diane wondered what was happening behind the politely interested expression on his face.

_I want to know what you’re thinking._

When his eyes came around to meet hers, Diane could feel herself flushing. Was it weird for her to be watching him like that?

“Balcony,” she said, opening the door. “Our entire outdoor space for the next two weeks.”

“Nice flowers,” he said with a smile.

“They’re almost done for the year,” she said. “I like being able to see them from the kitchen.”

She left the door open as she showed him down the three step hallway. “Bathroom,” she said, nodding to one door. Before opening the other door, she spun, pressing her back against it to look up at Nick.

“Oh I just realised,” she said, eyes wide. Nick was closer than usual. He’d probably stopped short, expecting her to continue.

“Yes?” he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for her to speak.

“I did not think this through,” she whispered.

“Diane,” Nick said, amusement washing over his face, “what is it?”

She clenched her eyes closed, opened the door and let it swing open behind her. Nick stepped forward – she could feel the air moving, and he must have been close enough to touch.

“There’s only one bed,” he said.

_Doesn’t sound angry._

“Yes,” she whispered.

When his hand landed on her shoulder, Diane flinched, then opened her eyes, bracing for wherever the conversation might go.

“It’s a pretty big bed,” Nick said, his eyes kind. “And we were sleeping right next to each other on those tiny cots in Gander.”

The tightness around Diane’s heart eased. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have thought.”

She expected Nick to speak, but instead he looked at her for a long moment. She could feel his calmness radiating out and irrationally, tears threatened. Why was he being so kind? It didn’t really matter except that he was, and for some reason it was making her cry.

“Would you like a hug?” Nick asked quietly.

Diane nodded, not wanting to risk further speech right now and as Nick stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her back, her eyes drifted closed again. She could feel his blazer at her fingertips, and his shirt was cool under her cheek. He seemed happy to stand there in the doorway of her bedroom, and the understated kindness triggered something in her again.

_It has been a long time since someone outside my family was this kind to me._

Diane tried not to think about it – that was depressing, more than anything, and she wanted to concentrate on having Nick here. Two weeks felt like a long time, but she knew one day she would wake up and it would be over. She really did need to savour every moment. Especially this one, wrapped in his arms for no reason other than he thought she might need a hug.

“Thank you,” Diane said quietly as they eased apart. They were still in the doorway, closer than they might otherwise stand in a larger room.

_Intimate again._

“Of course,” Nick replied. He hesitated, the awkwardness she recognised from Gander coming through again. “Anytime.”

“Should have asked you earlier,” Diane said. “It was strange in Gander. So many people but I felt really…disconnected. From them all.”

“Yes,” Nick said. “I know what you mean.”

Diane looked down, the moment of understanding intense. “I don’t know how easy I’ll be to live with,” she began, then winced. “I feel like I should have told you this before we were here.”

“Hardly an opportunity,” Nick said with a smile. “Why don’t we make tea and talk about all our worst habits.” He smiled at her. “Get everything out in the open so there’s no surprises.”

Diane swallowed hard at that. “Sure,” she managed.

Nick brought their suitcases into the bedroom while Diane filled the kettle and found mugs. When he returned she said, “You should make yourself at home while we’re here. Don’t feel like you have to ask to eat, or use anything that’s out here.” She waved one hand to indicate the living room, bookshelves and CDs.

“Okay,” Nick replied. “Thank you.”

“Alright, first thing,” Diane said, passing him his tea, “stop thanking me. Please.”

“Okay,” Nick replied with a smile. “But you have to promise to tell me if I do something really annoying.”

“As long as you tidy up after yourself more or less and don’t drink the last of the milk without telling me, we’ll be fine,” Diane said.

“Of course,” Nick said. He took a seat at the small kitchen table. “So, what are these terrible habits for which I will curse your name by the end of the week?”

Diane sat opposite him, suddenly nervous. “It’s been a long time since I’ve lived with anyone,” she told him. “Except David, and he moved out over a year ago. I guess I’m out of practice.”

“Me too,” Nick told her. He drank from his tea, then added, “I think the most likely scenario will be that we’ll both be so excruciatingly polite to each other we’ll drive the other bonkers.”

“Bonkers?” Diane repeated.

“Yes,” Nick said serenely, and there was something so composed about the way he looked at her she couldn’t help laughing. Something fizzed low in her belly, and she ignored it.

_Nope. Not now._

“Fine,” Nick said. “Well I don’t believe I snore, and I’ll be sure to wash my dishes when I’m done.” He smiled. “As room-mates go I would venture I’m fairly quiet, though I don’t have any references to that effect.”

Diane nodded. She wanted to ask but it felt like prying, even with their conversation so far. “Okay,” she said. “Well it’s not like we have any choice, but I think we might just survive this.”

“Excellent,” Nick replied, and his eyes were warm as he looked at her.

_Provided I can keep myself under control._


	2. Day Zero

“Hi,” Diane said into the phone, smiling at David’s voice.

“Hi, Mom,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay,” she told him. “Back in Dallas, at least.”

“Yeah,” David said. His voice grew gruff as it always did when he was emotional. “I wish I could see you.”

“Me too,” Diane said. “But you’re okay at Aunt Emily’s?”

“Yeah,” David said. “We’re fine over here.” There was a rustling at his end, and he said, “She’s here, actually. Wants to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Diane said. “Love you.”

“Love you, Mom,” David said before his aunt replaced him on the line. Diane pulled in a deep breath – it had been good to hear David’s voice, but she knew her sister would be all business. Sure enough…

“Good, you’re home,” Emily said briskly. “Just wanted to check in. Did you find the stuff I left?”

“The food? Yes, thank you,” Diane replied.

“And the rest!” Emily said with a laugh. “I left it on the fridge.”

Diane turned, blinking when she saw the unfamiliar shape. “I didn’t even notice,” she said, wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder to pluck the envelope from its magnet. “What is this?”

“Survival guide,” Emily said. “They were talking about it yesterday on morning television. I made some notes.” Diane smiled. It was so like Emily to take over the logistics. “And you and Nicholas should think about if there’s anything else you want and let me know today so I can go and get it today. We don’t know how long it will be until everyone has to stay inside unless it’s essential.”

“Everyone?” Diane asked. _And…Nicholas?_ She could feel Nick’s eyes on her. “Okay, we’ll talk. Thanks for this.”

“Okay, talk tomorrow,” Emily said.

Diane could practically feel her curiosity about Nick, but she’d kept things short at the airport and her place was so small she wouldn’t be able to talk without Nick overhearing her. And that would _not_ be happening.

“My sister,” Diane said once she’d hung up. “Emily.”

“Ah,” Nick replied. “She left you something?”

“She left _us_ something,” Diane replied, waving the envelope. “Must have brought it over after I spoke to her from the airport.” She showed Nick the hastily written coversheet.

_Diane and Nicholas’ guide to surviving isolation and each other_ _J_

The smiley face at the end didn’t stop Diane blushing, and she and Nick shared a smile at her sister’s little joke.

“Nobody calls me Nicholas,” Nick said with a conspiratorial glance.

“I’ll tell her,” Diane assured him. They shared a look, Nick’s mouth turning up into a smile. “We’d better see what she’s said,” Diane said. She sat down beside Nick, ignoring how close they had to be to read the paper at the same time.

_They had someone on TV talking about this and I figured you probably hadn’t seen it. I hope it helps. CALL ME IF YOU NEED ANYTHING. Em xx_

“She’s worried about you,” Nick murmured.

“Big sister,” Diane said by way of explanation. They both started on the list below.

  1. _Have a routine – shower, dress, eat at set times._
  2. _Keep track of the days._
  3. _Eat regular balanced meals._
  4. _Avoid alcohol and caffeine._
  5. _Drink plenty of water._
  6. _Get at least 7 hours sleep each night – this will be easier if you follow the first 5 steps._
  7. _Do something active each day._
  8. _Make contact with the outside world – letters, emails, phone calls if possible._
  9. _Talk to someone if you feel like your mood is fluctuating. It’s natural that you’ll have lower days, make sure you talk it through._
  10. _Be gentle on yourself – you may not be motivated to do anything productive. It is a stressful time._



They read in silence, Diane exceptionally aware of Nick beside her.

“Wow, do you think we really need to do all this?” Diane said.

“I think it’s suggestions,” Nick replied. “To stop you going bonkers.”

Diane rolled her eyes at him. “Bonkers,” she repeated with a grin.

“Yes,” Nick said. “It’s a real word, I promise you.”

“Emily said we should let her know soon if we want anything,” Diane said, deliberately changing the topic. “She’ll bring it over. It sounds like everyone might be in proper lockdown soon.”

“Really?” Nick asked, taking the paper and reading it again.

Diane nodded, biting her lip. She hadn’t even really registered that she was back in Dallas yet. Not to mention all the stuff that had happened in New York, and the other planes, and now there was this. Her head was swirling with all the changes in the wider world, let alone having someone in her apartment full-time for the next two weeks. And not just ‘someone’, but Nick…

“Well we should make a list,” Nick said. “Of things we might ask Emily to bring us. Do you have a pen?”

Diane nodded, grateful he was taking charge. She found a pen and a pad of paper and sat down again beside him, handing over the stationery. Though she was careful not to sit too close, it was nice to be on the same side of the table, and it was where she’d been sitting before. It made sense to sit in the same seat.

“I’d like a notebook,” Nick said, starting the list. “To write down some of what happened in Gander. I don’t want to forget it.”

“That’s a good idea,” Diane said, watching him write. _Maybe it will help me figure all this out._ “It might be a good idea to ask her to lend us some board games?” She phrased it as a question, feeling her cheeks heat. _What if he thinks that’s a stupid idea?_ “Two weeks is a long time.”

“Great idea,” Nick replied, writing it down. “Though I should warn you I am something of a champion when it comes to Scrabble.”

“Fair enough,” Diane said, smiling with relief that he’d accepted her idea. “Oh!” An idea occurred to her. “Do you have enough medication? For your heart?”

“Yes,” Nick replied. “The chemist in Gander gave me a month’s worth, and I had packed enough for my trip.” He smiled at her. “I hadn’t thought of it, thank you. I don’t even know what day it is.”

“We should keep track,” Diane said, pointing at the list – 2. _Keep track of the days._ She took the pad of paper from Nick, tearing off the back half. Taking the pen from his fingers she registered the brush of their skin together but pushed it away for now. She frowned. “Is today day 1?”

“Day zero, I think,” Nick replied. “Since we only just arrived.”

Diane wrinkled her nose, but drew a big ‘0’ on the first page, and under it, ‘Saturday’. She turned it over, writing ‘1’ on the next page, all the way through to ‘14’, the days of the week underneath.

“Our calendar,” she announced. “Not that the day of the week makes much of a difference. I’ll put it…over here?” She pointed to one of the overhead cupboards.

“Excellent,” Nick replied. “Was there anything else you wanted from your sister?”

“I don’t think so,” Diane replied, sticky taping their makeshift calendar to the cabinet. “Well, maybe some movies?” She looked around. “I don’t really know what things we might need to keep us occupied for two weeks.”

“Things to do,” Nick said as he wrote. “I get the impression Emily will be good at interpreting that,” he said. He had this lopsided grin sometimes, Diane thought, and it was wonderful.

“She will,” Diane replied, hoping he hadn’t noticed the pause. “Oh, you should put ‘good tea’ on the list,” she said. “I only have cheap tea I buy to make-”

“Iced tea,” Nick finished with a smile at the paper as he wrote.

“Exactly,” Diane said. “And add whatever you want in terms of food or whatever.” She picked up the envelope, intending to place it in the recycling, but instead she frowned. Was there still something inside?

“What else has Emily put in?” Nick asked, standing up from the table to come and stand beside her. He wasn’t too close, considering their circumstances, but it was close enough she was very aware of him.

“There’s…oh my God, she’s included a bunch of recipes,” Diane said with a grin, smoothing out the papers she’d pulled from the envelope. “Do you think she thinks we’re teenagers or something?”

Nick walked over to the table, picking up the list and pointing to it. “‘Number three – eat regular balanced meals.’”

“Oh my God,” Diane laughed. “It looks like we really are going to be using this list, then.”

“I think we are,” Nick agreed, and their shared laughter was warm between them.

She showed Nick the recipes. None of them were all that complicated, and the first had a sticky note on the front.

_You have everything you need for all these. Let me know which ones you like and I’ll buy more groceries for next week xx_

“How much older is she?” Nick asked. He was clearly trying to hold back another smile, and Diane shook her head.

“Five years,” she said. “Just enough to mother me without being old enough to actually be my mother.” She added the recipes to a new spot on the fridge, frowning at a pile of bills her sister must have assumed she’d see.

_Have to deal with those at some point._

Nick smiled. “It’s nice that she cares,” he said.

“It is,” Diane admitted. Things were more complicated, of course, but that story would have to wait. “Okay, I’ll leave the recipes on the fridge, and the list on the bench until I call her back.”

“Of course,” Nick said. He stood up, taking his mug to the sink. “Shall we plan to do dishes after our evening meal?”

“Yes,” Diane said. “It’s ridiculous to do just this.”

“Good,” Nick replied and she could see his relief that they agreed. The smile they shared was almost conspiratorial. _We are on the same page for this_. He sat down again beside her, and they looked at each other.

“Should we try and figure out some kind of routine?” Diane asked, pointing at the list. “If we’re gonna follow this, I guess we shouldn’t ignore number one. It feels a bit weird, but we could come up with something and see if it works?”

“Of course,” Nick replied. They sat down again and Nick passed her the paper and pen. She smiled at him, ignoring the flutter as their fingers brushed. _He’s not controlling._ “Where should we start?”

“I don’t usually have a schedule,” Diane admitted. “Not that I follow all that closely, anyway.”

Nick coloured. “I do,” he admitted, “but a lot of my working life revolves around travel and conference calls.”

Diane smiled. _Of course you do._ “How about we come up with something that has some flexibility?” she said. “And we can always tweak it if we need to.”

Nick nodded. “Certainly.”

They were both tentative as they exchanged ideas, but in the end they had a loose idea of the shape their days would take. It allowed for choice, with meal times set to give structure to their waking hours. It felt a little strange to decide their mealtimes in advance, but Nick seemed to agree it was a good idea. Diane was relieved they had negotiated everything successfully. It helped that Nick was generally easy going, and when he presented ideas he was prepared to listen to her opinions. Having him here definitely made this whole thing easier.

_Order from this chaos._

Diane pinned their schedule to the fridge. “Running out of space,” she said. Pulling down the take out menus helped, as did the assorted other postcards and things. When she moved the postcard her friend had sent from Mexico the previous year, David’s face greeted her. She’d forgotten this photo was here. With fingers that were somehow shaking, she pulled it off the fridge and looked at it.

“Is that David?” Nick’s voice was behind her.

“Yes,” she whispered. Hearing his voice was one thing but seeing his face Diane realised she wouldn’t see him again for at least two weeks. “His graduation,” she managed before the tears spilled over her cheeks. The photo was carefully taken from her hand and she felt Nick’s arm come around her shoulders. It was light, as though she might turn him away, but instead she leaned into it, taking strength from his touch. His arm settled more fully against her and she sighed.

“Did you speak to him earlier?” Nick asked when Diane took a deep breath and eased back.

“Yes,” Diane said. She pinned up the schedule with shaking hands. “He’s staying with Emily. He’ll be fine.”

Nick nodded. He glanced at her before he picked up the photo and stuck it right above the schedule. Diane smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Did you want…I mean, you can call whoever you need to. Whenever you want,” she said, feeling herself stumbling over the words. Nick hadn’t talked much about his family, except to say he didn’t have any. _Another story that will have to wait._

“I should call work,” Nick said. “If you don’t-”

“-don’t say it,” Diane interrupted with a smile. “And don’t ask. Please.”

“Okay,” Nick replied. He still flashed her a look as he picked up the phone and took it into the living room.

Wanting to give him some space, Diane looked around the kitchen. It was probably too early to start cooking dinner, and she couldn’t call her sister if Nick was on the phone, then she realised she had yet to unpack. The perfect thing to do to give Nick space to make his phone call. Before she could take more than a couple of steps, he was back, resting the phone in its cradle.

“Short call,” Diane said with what she hoped was a bland smile.

“Yes,” Nick replied. He looked down at the bench, running one finger along the edge. “They’re not pleased about the quarantine situation.”

From Nick’s expression, Diane could tell he was playing it down. She felt her mouth drop open. “That’s hardly your fault!” she said.

“No,” Nick replied with a smile that didn’t quite work. “And yet I’m expected to return to London on the first flight I can, at which time my employment will be ‘reviewed’ immediately.”

Diane wanted to say something but she couldn’t think of a single thing that might help. As she watched, she could see Nick folding the disappointment and whatever else he was feeling into a tiny ball. She wanted to help him somehow.

“Do you want a hug?” she asked without thinking.

Nick froze for a second, before looking up to meet her eyes. “I think I do,” he replied.

Diane stepped in, wrapping her arms around him. Nick did respond in kind, and they stood there in a tight hug for a few seconds. It was nice, she thought. To have someone to hug. To have someone hug her.

“Thank you,” Nick said when they both finally eased apart.

“I think we’ll both need a few hugs before this is over,” Diane murmured.

“Lucky we’re here together, then,” Nick replied.

Their eyes met and they both smiled, the moment pulling out longer than she might expect.

_Don’t…_

“I was about to unpack,” Diane said. “I’ll have to do some laundry. Do you need…”

“No, thank you,” Nick replied. “My suitcase wasn’t even opened.”

“Of course, “Diane said. “Well, I’ll just…”

“Of course,” Nick replied. He opened his mouth, but closed it again, smiling at Diane. “I was going to ask if you’d mind if I looked at your bookcase, but I will assume that is fine.”

“It is,” Diane replied with a smile.

+++

“I suppose we’ll have to trust your judgement,” Diane said to her sister, meeting Nick’s smile with one of her own. They’d eaten, Nick setting the table while she cooked, both agreeing not to mention to Emily that all they’d made was toast on this first night.

“Okay,” Emily said, and Diane could hear her smile. “I’ll leave you a box on your doorstep later tonight.”

“Thanks,” Diane said.

“Oh, and I bought you something a little extra when I knew Nicholas was coming,” she said with a grin. “It’s in your bedside table. If you need it.”

Diane frowned, but before she could ask Emily had hung up.

_I really need to correct her on the Nicholas/Nick thing._

“Was something the matter?” Nick asked.

“No,” Diane said with a start. “She’ll leave us a box tonight.”

Nick smiled. “I look forward to seeing how she interprets what we wrote.”

Diane barely heard him, her mind on her sister’s cryptic words. “Excuse me a moment,” she said. She walked quickly into the bedroom, closing the door with care. Her breath had caught in her throat so when she opened the drawer and fumbled inside, her lungs were burning.

“Good Lord,” she exhaled when her hand pulled out the only two unfamiliar shapes. A bottle of personal lubricant and a box of condoms. She stared at them for a long moment before thrusting them back inside and closing the door. Her sister had definitely crossed a line here – and there was nothing she could do about it without letting Nick know.

“Low move,” she muttered. She’d keep this to herself. Not that there would be any need to tell Nick. In fifteen days he’d go back to London and she could berate her sister in person. Hopefully. A wave of exhaustion came over her. How long had it been since she’d slept properly? Too long, she knew.

With another deep breath, Diane moved back out into the living room. Nick was sitting on the couch, a book in his hand.

“I think I’m going to take a shower and turn in,” Diane said. It was strange telling someone what she was doing. She was used to this being her own space, but she could hardly go to bed with telling him.

“Sure,” Nick said. “I’ll join you.” His eyes widened. “I don’t mean…when you’re done, I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” Diane interrupted his stuttering. “It’s…fine.”

Nick’s cheeks were still red and Diane could see the mortification on his face. “Very well,” he managed.

“I’ll let you know when the bathroom’s free,” Diane told him.

Nick nodded then bowed his head back to his book.

Diane didn’t realise how much she’d missed her own shower until she was there. Her own soap, her own shampoo; the scent was familiar and she was relieved her tears washed down the drain along with the suds. Who would have thought something so silly would trigger such an emotional response?

Her brain started pulling up memories from Gander. The planes, the news, the stress…she had pushed it away for the time they were there, but now they were home. And it was time to go to bed, where there would be nothing to do but think. She felt self-conscious in her pyjamas and it occurred to her that for all the times they’d slept beside each other, Nick had never seen her in pyjamas. Nor she him, actually. Why did that matter right now?

She didn’t know – or she wasn’t going to admit it to herself. Not right now, of course. She ducked her head out, saying quietly, “The bathroom’s free.”

“Thank you,” Nick replied.

Diane busied herself watering the plants on the balcony while Nick collected his things and disappeared into the bathroom. When she was done, she took herself to bed, wondering if she should wait up for Nick. Her tiredness had softened as she prepared for bed, and her head was swirling with thoughts that would not resolve. The mattress was familiar, but it was strange to sit up and look across the room at her own dresser. She was still contemplating the idea, wondering how soon it would stop being so strange when Nick appeared, glancing at her before he tucked his belongings into his suitcase.

“I’ve left the contents of my wetbag in the bathroom,” Nick said. “I’m not asking permission, I’m…letting you know.”

Diane smiled. “Thanks,” she said.

He rounded the bottom of the bed, turning back the sheets before he placed his glasses on the bedside table. Diane could feel the mattress dip as he settled himself. It was strange as they both slid further down the bed. Far more intimate than the cots. There, she couldn’t feel him shifting. She couldn’t feel the tug of the blanket as he pulled it up and over his shoulders and his voice didn’t murmur an apology as it did. One hadn’t changed, though; with the corner light still on, the dim view of Nick was the same as it had been in Gander, except that…

“You’re on the other side,” Diane murmured. Talking about small things, unimportant things, was easier than addressing the big things in her mind.

Maybe that was how he could help.

Nick’s smile was visible. “I am,” he replied. “Did you mean to leave the light on?”

“Yes,” Diane said. “I hope you don’t m-”

“Don’t,” Nick interrupted quietly. “It’s fine.”

The quiet rolled around them. Another thing so different to Gander.

“ _Is_ it fine?”

Nick’s voice broke the silence, and Diane could hear the invitation in his gentle tone.

“I haven’t really processed everything in Gander yet,” Diane admitted. “And the stuff in New York, and now this…” she trailed off, swallowing hard.

_I can’t go into it now._

Nick was quiet for several long breaths.

“Things have changed a lot,” Nick said quietly. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I’m glad you won’t have to spend these two weeks alone.”

“Me too,” Diane said, glad he wasn’t pushing. “For both of us.”

Nick smiled again. “For both of us.”

Diane closed her eyes. There was still a lot swirling around inside her head, but it wasn’t keeping her awake as she had feared. With a sigh, she felt herself begin to drift to sleep.


	3. Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there.  
> We're going to be doing one day per chapter now that we've settled into things. It may take a little longer for each chapter to come but I think it works better than breaking up the days. I hope you're enjoying this story.  
> Stay safe, stay home, stay kind. <3

Diane closed the dishwasher on their breakfast dishes then looked over at Nick. It was strange to see him dressed in a different shirt. The blue suited him, she thought, tugging self-consciously at her own green blouse. “Should we look in the box now?” she asked.

“Certainly,” Nick replied. Emily’s box was still sitting on the floor where Diane had brought it in this morning, so Nick picked it up and placed it on the table.

“Let’s see what she packed for us,” Diane said.

“It’s like Christmas,” Nick replied with a grin as she pulled open the tape.

“Your notebook,” Diane told him, grinning in return. “Notebooks,” she added, taking out half a dozen. “How many did she think we’d need?” There were a packet of pens, a set of coloured pencils and a thick pile of magazines.

“She must think we’ll get pretty bored,” Nick said.

“I think she’s been staying home for a while,” Diane said. “Might be experience telling her.”

“True,” Nick replied. “Though there are a lot of options here.”

“Activity books?” Diane asked, reading the first cover on the pile.

“Crosswords, Find-a-words, colouring books,” Nick read as he looked at each cover. “I guess this is how she interprets ‘things to do’.”

Diane grinned at him. “I guess so.”

She reached into the box again. “Videos,” she said, pulling them out. “Oh my god…”

Nick took the first cassette as Diane passed it to him. “Introduction to…ballroom dancing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Meditation for beginners. Yoga for dummies.” He raised an eyebrow. “Boxercise?”

Diane groaned, her face hot. “Boxercise?” she groaned. “Did she really think we’d be doing boxercise?”

“ _Do something active each day,_ ” Nick read from the sticky note he’d found on one of the covers. “Number six, I think?”

“This better be her idea of a joke,” Diane said. She had no idea what number it was but Emily was definitely pushing the big sister thing right now.

“She’s kind of right,” Nick said, looking at the video covers. “I mean, the boxercise is not something I’d try, but…” he held up the ballroom dancing. “I did learn at boarding school. Which was a long time ago.”

“Really?” Diane said. Her heart hitched at the idea of dancing with Nick, but she pushed it away.

“Really,” Nick said with a shrug. “We’ll have to do something.”

“Okay,” Diane said. “We didn’t put that into our schedule. When did you want to do it?”

“Did you have plans right now?” Nick asked with a grin. “We could do our active time right after breakfast.”

Diane felt her eyes go wide. “Right now?”

“Well, let’s finish seeing what’s in here,” Nick said. “But then?”

“Sure,” Diane replied. She grinned at the next thing, forgetting her fast beating heart. “I suppose good is subjective, but what do you think about this?”

“PG Tips?” Nick asked, taking the box of tea from her. His expression was doubtful, but he was polite enough to be tactful. Diane’s heart sped up again as she realised she could read him. “Well, it’s certainly English.”

“Good, though?” Diane pressed.

“I appreciate the effort,” Nick said with a smile that told her he could tell what she was doing.

“And these to go with it, I think,” Diane added. Emily had included a couple of boxes each of Jaffa cakes and Digestives, and seeing Nick’s smile as she passed them over made Diane smile too.

“That’s very thoughtful,” Nick said. “Though I will never admit to liking Jaffa cakes.”

“Cakes?” Diane asked, looking at the box. “I always thought they would look…different.”

“It’s an ongoing debate,” Nick told her. “You have to make your own mind up.”

“Really?” Diane asked.

Nick nodded seriously. “Cake or biscuit.”

“And which side are you on?” Diane asked, feeling a smile tug at her mouth.

Nick was shaking his head before she’d even finished the question. “No, I don’t want to influence you.” He was grinning at her. “But if you chose wrong, well…” he shook his head gravely.

“Okay, then,” Diane said. “Well I guess we’ll have to open them with our afternoon tea.” She waggled the PG Tips at Nick with a grin.

“if you insist,” Nick replied.

“Board games,” Diane said, passing them one by one to Nick. She smiled at the collection, recognising some from their childhood, others that she’d given Emily and her family over the years.

“For the record,” Diane said, as Scrabble passed to Nick, “‘bonkers’ is not a real word.”

Nick raised one eyebrow. “I think we’ll have some differences of opinion,” he said with a grin. “I’m sure we can work through them.”

Diane raised an amused eyebrow, not rising to the bait. The big box was almost empty, and she pulled out the last items – a pack of playing cards, a set of dice and some modelling clay in a rainbow of colours. “I think she was getting pretty creative there,” Diane said wryly.

“Thirteen days from now you might be glad she did,” Nick said with a grin.

“You seem to be enjoying this,” Diane said.

Nick’s smile faded a little, but he met Diane’s eyes. “I enjoy your company,” he said without a trace of sarcasm or irony. “And the idea of having two weeks more isn’t terrible.”

Diane opened her mouth to reply but she wasn’t exactly sure what to say. Finally, she managed, “Even if we end up playing with modelling clay?” she said, holding it up.

“Especially modelling clay,” he replied, taking it from her hand. “I haven’t done this in…” he frowned. “I don’t think I can ever remember using modelling clay.”

“I’ll show you,” Diane replied automatically.

“Thank you,” Nick said. “You’re very kind.”

His eyes met hers again, and the world slowed to a stop for a second. Diane drank it in until it felt like a little too much.

“Okay,” Diane said. She cleared her throat. “So, boxercise then?”

Nick raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m game if you are,” he said, amusement and challenge in his voice. “Shall we move all this first?”

“Right,” she said when they’d sorted most of Emily’s activities back into the box. “Do you want to get changed before we do this?”

From the look on his face, Nick didn’t expect her to be quite so enthusiastic. “Certainly,” he replied. “Lucky I planned to run while in Dallas.”

“I’ll get changed, too.” Diane said with a grin.

Ridiculous as it was, she felt better for this conversation. As she dug out a sweatshirt and leggings, she tried to figure out why. It _was_ ridiculous, maybe that was the point. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed at something. Not since before Gander, that was sure. But here she was, shut in her small apartment with Nick while the world might be falling apart…and he was enjoying himself. They were laughing.

It didn’t negate the rest, but it was certainly a relief from the anxiety she’d felt for so long, and she would embrace it for as long as it lasted. Which was at least another two weeks. The predictability of it after so much uncertainly in the last week made her feel a little better.

She brushed her teeth while he changed, and they were both grinning widely when they met in her living room. Diane raised her eyebrows at his shorts and loose t-shirt, grinning as his cheeks grew pink under her scrutiny. Taking pity on him she didn’t say anything.

“I’ll move this,” Nick said as Diane took the cassette. He shifted the coffee table as well as he could, making space for them.

“Are we seriously going to do this?” Diane asked him when the video menu came up.

“Of course,” Nick replied. He rolled his neck theatrically. “We should do something active every day.”

Diane shook her head. “Okay then,” she said and pressed play.

+++

Twenty minutes later they both sat on the couch while the enthusiastic lead woman continued to cry encouragement. Diane assumed the bouncy music was still playing garishly under her voice, but she could barely hear the video over her breathless laughter. The warm up had been alright; they’d both been self-conscious as they stretched and practiced the slower actions, but the moment the leader cried, “Okay, let’s get this party started!” Diane knew she wouldn’t last long.

She didn’t look at Nick as she tried to copy the moves. The mirth was bubbling up fast enough in her stomach as she tried to concentrate on the sequences, but as she twisted to her right instead of her left they caught each other’s eyes and there was no way she could keep it down. Nick was as close as she was, and as the first chuckle left her his face crumbled and there was no going back.

Diane couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard. She’d collapsed on the couch, her diaphragm aching as she laughed at the absurdity of it. Every time it started to wane she’d glance over at Nick and it would start again.

“Okay,” she said finally, without looking over. “We have to…oh, God…we have to stop.”

“Yes,” Nick said faintly. A few minutes of silence, only their breathing breaking the silence. “I’m not sure that video is the best option.”

“No,” Diane managed. She sat up, grasping for the remote control to turn off the video. The silence rang around them as the music stopped suddenly.

“If your sister hears about this,” Nick said carefully, “you may never hear the end of it.”

“I know,” Diane said with a sigh. She sat up, risking a glance over. Nick was sitting up too, and this time they managed to look at each other without cracking up. “So we should never, ever, tell her.”

“Okay,” Nick said with a restrained smile. “So tomorrow, we’ll dance instead?”

“Yes,” Diane replied. Much as she wanted to say something about funny the dancing was, she remembered that Nick had studied it at school. And they did have to do something. Well, they didn’t have to, but the idea of dancing with Nick every day was…good. She certainly wasn’t going to turn down the option.

“Would you like to use the bathroom first?”

Diane blinked at Nick’s question, then nodded.

When she emerged, clean and in fresh clothing, Nick smiled briefly as he traded places. Diane paused as she stood in the kitchen, entirely alone. It was quieter than she remembered. Other than completing her ablutions she couldn’t remember the last time she’d stood in a room on her own.

The sound of the shower turning on jolted her out of her reverie and Diane grabbed the bills off the fridge and her chequebook from the drawer. She really did need to do this, and now was as good a chance as any. Plus, she could forget about it once it was done.

She was concentrating when Nick came in, and he was on the edge of her awareness as she finished the last cheque. Capping her pen, Diane looked up. He had a tiny frown as he was writing, the edge of his notebook at an angle to the edge of the table. She watched him for a moment, wondering why the word ‘adorable’ was floating in her mind.

“Was there something?” Nick asked, glancing up. He was still adjusting the cuffs of his shirt – the same as this morning – and Diane realised he habitually rolled the sleeves up. For a second she was going to ask him about it, but she changed her mind.

“No,” she said. “In fact I think I’ll join you.” She glanced at the fridge. “We didn’t plan anything specific before lunch?”

“I don’t believe so,” Nick replied with a smile.

“Okay,” Diane replied. She packed away her chequebook and made a pile of envelopes to be posted, right before the door. Maybe Emily could take them when she came next time.

It was peaceful sitting beside Nick, her book open. The pen hovered over the page while she thought, her eyes on Nick. Nick was writing without pause and Diane wondered what he could think of that was worth writing so clearly. It probably doesn’t matter, Diane thought. Just…write something.

 _When you include the original flight,_ she started, _we were on the plane probably twelve or thirteen hours._

Once she’d started it was easier. She tried for a narrative of sorts, with as much detail as she could remember. As she wrote, more things came to her, some with no meaning, others connected to the things she already remembered. Sometimes she hesitated; how personal did she want to be? When she reached the end of one page, Diane continued to the next without stopping, though there were times she left out her thoughts. Especially when they were about Nick…but she didn’t stop to analyse that right now. The words were coming more easily, and it wasn’t until Nick’s voice sounded beside her that Diane looked up.

“We should stop for lunch.”

She looked around, disoriented at being back in Dallas. Her mind was still in the shelter at Gander; she was halfway through a recollection of their first night there.

“I’ll just finish this,” she murmured, not wanting to lose her train of thought. Another few scribbled sentences and she was done. The story continued, of course, but this was a good point at which to pause.

“You wrote a lot,” Nick commented.

Diane flicked back, astonished that he was so right. “I did,” she said. As she looked at all the words she felt lighter. Perhaps this could be therapeutic after all.

“Lunch?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Nick replied. He’d already packed his book away and filled two water glasses. “And we should be drinking more water.”

Diane smiled, accepting one of the glasses. “Number…three?” she hazarded a guess.

“Five,” Nick said with a glance at the list.

“Are you planning on living your whole isolation by that list?” Diane asked, draining her glass.

“Yes,” Nick said simply. “It seems easier with a schedule.”

Diane watched him drink his glass of water before he leaned against the bench and smiled at her. He certainly appeared to be completely comfortable with the situation. Again she wanted to ask more about his motivation, but it could lead to a conversation to which she wasn’t quite ready to contribute.

“Alright,” she said slowly. “Lunch?”

“Lunch,” Nick agreed.

They made sandwiches – approved by Emily’s recipes, Diane was amused to note – and decided on what they’d make for dinner. The conversation turned to the food in Gander, which wasn’t surprising; sandwiches had featured heavily in the rotation. Diane was surprised at how much they laughed as they recalled their time there.

“It really wasn’t as bad as people are going to think,” she said as they cleared their dishes away.

“No,” Nick replied. He leaned against the bench. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain it, actually.”

“No,” Diane mused. “I think a lot of it only really makes sense if you were there.”

“Yes,” Nick agreed.

“Lucky we’re here together,” Diane said, her heart beating fast at the words she was putting out there.

“It is,” Nick smiled.

Diane wasn’t sure what she could say to that, so she pulled her gaze sideways to the schedule. “‘Quiet activities’,” she read. “What did that mean?”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t think it really matters,” he said. “Just about everything is quiet.”

“Except boxercise,” Diane said, giggling at his expression.

“Yes, well I think that goes without saying,” Nick told her. “I might chose a book, actually.”

“Good idea,” Diane said. The afternoon loomed long ahead of her, and it was the first time she’d really appreciated how little they really were obligated to do. Emily’s box of things to do made a little more sense. Nick perused her selection of books while she ducked into the bedroom to collect the book she’d taken to Europe with her. When she returned he was settled on one end of the couch.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you were an Eddings fan,” Nick said.

“That series is David’s,” Diane said. “He keeps trying to get me to read them, but,” she shrugged. “They’re not really my bag.”

Nick nodded. “They didn’t seem to fit with the rest of your collection,” he said.

She smiled, holding up the Ngaio Marsh she’d brought in with her. “I’m re-reading these,” she said. “They’re murder mysteries.”

“Ah,” Nick said. “So I should be careful not to drive you bonkers, then.”

“Yes,” Diane said. “Though I’m not sure I could effectively dispose of a body in this small apartment.”

Nick grinned at her. “I’ll consider myself safe, then.”

“You are,” Diane said. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Another smile, another longer-than-usual beat before they both made themselves comfortable again. The book was one she’d read several times, and Diane thought the familiarity might make it easier to immerse herself, but she couldn’t do it. She told herself it was the way she was sitting, or the strange noise from outside, or the fact she was a bit tired still. She knew none of them was right, of course. It was Nick being here. She was very aware of him, though he wasn’t doing anything particularly to draw her attention. Her eyes kept flicking up from her book to study him. As soon as she realised she forced herself to concentrate, not wanting him to catch her. She was as bad as a schoolgirl, Diane told herself crossly. This was ludicrous.

Impatiently, she found her bookmark, casting the book onto the coffee table Nick had shifted to the side for their earlier boxercise.

“Did you want me to move that back?” Nick asked.

“No,” Diane said. “I’m just…tired, I guess.” She smiled briefly at him. “Don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of the day. I think I’ll just organise these.” She pointed at the CD rack. “David always puts them out of order when he comes over.”

“He does?” Nick asked, raising one eyebrow.

“It’s a running joke,” she said. Kneeling next to it, she pointed. “See how it’s arranged by colour?”

“Oh yes,” Nick said. “That’s…unusual.”

“He maintains it should be visually pleasing,” Diane said, knowing her voice sounded fondly amused. “I maintain I should be able to find what I’m looking for.”

“Ah,” Nick said. “I would have to say I’m on your side in that particular debate.”

“Yes, well, it means I’m quite fast at rearranging things now,” she told him. “But it does still need to be done.”

“Have at it,” Nick replied. “I’d offer to help but it appears to be a one person job.”

“It is,” Diane agreed. “You keep reading.”

Nick smiled, and she turned to her task. It was nice, she thought absently, being here without feeling like they had to talk. She made stacks as she went, smiling to herself as familiar covers appeared. She remembered buying most of them. It became quite therapeutic until an unfamiliar cover jolted her out of her silence.

“What?” she muttered to herself, looking at the picture. It must be one of Emily’s. Was she getting in on this now? Diane could see Nick glance over in her periphery, but she ignored it for the moment and he turned back to his book.

As the rack slowly emptied, the stack of unfamiliar CDs grew. She stopped a few times to stretch her back, and Nick shifted his weight on the couch as the afternoon wore on and the light shifted across the room. Finally, it was done. She had her usual stacks – arranged alphabetically by artist, then chronologically by each artist – and one stack that must belong to Emily. Frowning, Diane picked up each CD. They’d been scattered through the collection so she hadn’t really considered them as a group until now.

“Oh for…” she started, seeing the pattern clearly. She couldn’t help glance up, and this time she met Nick’s gaze.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” Diane said, feeling her cheeks heat. She really didn’t want to explain what was a clear message from her sister. It would be easy enough to come up with an alternative explanation that didn’t involve a match-making sister. “Emily’s obviously decided to get in on this.” She collected the pile, hiding most of the titles. “These are all hers.”

“Ah,” Nick said, closing his book, one finger marking his page. “Not your taste?”

“No,” Diane replied. “We’ve never really agreed on taste in music.”

Nick nodded. “It’s quite a personal thing, isn’t it?” he said. “My parents were very disappointed I didn’t appreciate the musicals of which they were so fond.”

“They took you to the theatre?” Diane asked.

“Yes,” Nick replied. “My brother and I never really understood the appeal.” He flashed an apologetic smile at Diane. “I hope that’s not a shocking revelation.”

“I think I can cope,” Diane smiled at him. “My tastes run towards more country, which probably isn’t much of a surprise.”

“Not entirely,” Nick said, with a gentle smile. “And your sister?”

“Well this is a collection she knows I’ll recognise,” Diane said. “She and my mother were huge fans of Doris Day.” She held up the top album, a colourised image of the blonde beaming out at Nick, who chuckled. “Absolutely not my style.”

“I followed the mainstream, I must say,” Nick said. “Would it surprise you know I own several original Beatles albums?”

“Not at all,” Diane replied. “How very English of you.”

“Yes,” Nick said. He obviously wasn’t fussed by that label. Diane remembered how he’d said it with the same intonation when he’d first used the word, ‘bonkers’.

“You’re used to being told you’re quite English, aren’t you?” she said suddenly.

Nick looked surprised, then nodded. “I suppose I am,” he said. “I do work overseas a lot.”

Diane nodded. “Is that difficult?” she asked tentatively, aware they were moving into far more personal territory. “Working overseas, I mean.”

Nick considered her question, glancing down to note the page before closing his book. “The travel certainly loses its appeal after a time,” he said. “I enjoy my work, though there can be language barriers sometimes.”

“Language barriers?” Diane repeated.

“My French isn’t as fluent as it could be,” Nick said. “And it’s schoolboy, mainly, which isn’t quite the same as they speak in Belgium, where I work a lot.”

Diane nodded. “What about culturally?” she said. “I’m thinking of the bonkers and the Jaffa cakes.”

“And the tea,” Nick said with a smile. “It’s never quite the same as at home.”

“Of course,” Diane said, guilt flooding through her. “I’m so sorry, I almost forgot, you’re not home yet.”

“Oh no,” Nick said, “don’t be sorry.” He smiled, and there was a pause between him opening his mouth and speaking. “This is…nice. I appreciate you letting me stay here.”

“That sounds awfully close to ‘thank you’,” Diane said, hoping to veer away from the subject they seemed to be approaching.

Nick frowned a little, searching for the right words. “I mean,” he said, “I live alone. Returning home directly from Gander – well, via Dallas – would have been strange. It’s nice having company.” Diane nodded, though her heart sank a little.

_I’m just company?_

“It’s nice having you for company,” Nick added. “Just to be clear.”

“Oh,” Diane whispered. “Well, you too.”

The atmosphere had thickened, and she cleared her throat. “It is a bit strange having someone else here,” she said. “David never lived here, it’s only just me.” She winced. “I’d forgotten it was so small, when we were at the airport.”

“We’re doing okay so far,” Nick said. “Boxercise aside, but I feel like we can blame your sister for that.”

“We absolutely can,” Diane agreed.

“So you moved here when David moved out?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” Diane told him. _How much to say?_ She looked down, one finger tracing Doris Day’s face as she admitted, “I stayed in the house my ex and I lived in before he…left. So David wouldn’t have to move. But I wanted something that was just mine.”

“I understand,” Nick murmured. “This is where I would thank you again, and apologise for taking up space in your flat, but we’re not doing that so I won’t.”

Diane had looked up at his first words but as he continued and the smile came over his face, she relaxed.

“Okay,” she said. The conversation hadn’t been long, but she felt like she didn’t want to continue it right now.

“Afternoon tea?” Nick asked. “You could make up your mind about Jaffa cakes.”

Diane smiled. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll just put these with the mail I need Emily to post for me.”

+++  
As Diane brushed her teeth, she gazed out the tiny bathroom window at the stars. There was an advantage to being on the third floor, she thought; she could see the sky from this window, while lower floors would only have a view of the opposite wall.

The rest of the day had been…easy. That was the best word for it. After their short conversation neither had asked – or offered – anything too personal as they made afternoon tea. Nick had watched her intently as she took a Jaffa cake, pretending to examine it seriously from all angles before breaking it in half and biting into it. It was weird, she’d told him. Not really either, but he’d insisted she had to pick a side.

“But you won’t tell me which side you’re on!” she said.

“I can’t,” he told her again. “Not before you commit one way or the other.”

Diane groaned. “And if I chose wrong?” she asked.

“You’ll never be able to visit England again,” he said dramatically.

“But half the people will agree, regardless of which side I chose,” she said.

“Ah, but the other half,” he said, “they will be…unhappy with your choice.”

“And you’ll protect me from their frenzied attacks if I chose the same as you,” Diane confirmed.

“I will,” Nick replied.

“Okay,” Diane said, taking a deep breath. “Well, having tasted a Jaffa cake, I would have to say…it’s more of a cake than a biscuit.” She’d been nervous, for some stupid reason, watching Nick anxiously before he spoke.

“You have chosen…wisely,” he said, not breaking into a grin until she’d sat back with one hand to her forehead.

“Excellent,” Diane replied. “I’d hate never to be able to visit again.”

“It would be terrible,” Nick agreed, and another tiny something passed between them before the conversation turned to the orange brownies someone in Gander had made.

Spitting toothpaste foam into the sink, Diane reflected that it had felt a lot like flirting. She wasn’t sure exactly; it had been a long time, and she wasn’t sure how Nick was with other people, so it was hard to tell if he was just being friendly or not. Given how closely they’d be living for the next two weeks of course they’d be nice to each other; but that moment at the end had been…something.

But they’d moved past it, finishing their afternoon tea. Diane showed Nick how to make iced tea, swearing him to secrecy over her family recipe. He was horrified at the amount of sugar she put in, and she laughed at the face he made tasting, choking out something polite before abandoning the rest of his glass. It felt good to laugh. That was two days in a row now, the gentle teasing and in-jokes growing as they eased into living together.

Living together.

It was a long time since she’d done that, either.

Diane didn’t let herself think about that too deeply. This was temporary. She shook her head, rinsing her toothbrush and the idea down the sink with the foam. That was definitely a thought she wasn’t going to consider. If she was happier with Nick here, thinking about what it would be like when he was gone…

_No._

Instead she remembered how nice it had been to make tacos with him, sharing guilty glances as they sipped the iced tea to which they’d added a shot of bourbon each.

“Cocktail hour,” Nick had declared, taking down the schedule. “I knew we’d forgotten something.”

“But what about number…” Diane hesitated, looking down the list. “Number four?”

“Yes,” Nick agreed, “but one drink a day is okay. I think.”

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Diane said.

“I know,” Nick replied. “I do remember the Screech In.”

Diane winced, but Nick was smiling at her. “Okay,” she said. “One drink.”

“One drink,” Nick agreed.

“David gave me this as a housewarming present,” she’d admitted, taking down the unopened bourbon. “I don’t know why.”

“I get the impression he’s pretty funny,” Nick said. “A joke?”

“Probably,” Diane agreed. They’d touched the rim of their glasses then, and she winced at the sharp burn of the tea. “Maybe a little less tomorrow,” she told him.

“Sure,” Nick replied. “Okay, so tacos? Is this another family recipe I’ll need to take to my grave?”

Dinner was slow, their conversation flowing quietly as they did the dishes and cleaned up. Though their schedule suggested a movie, Diane’s eyes had already grown heavy, and she was relieved when Nick gently suggested they retire instead.

He’d offered her the bathroom first, and she was grateful for these few moments of reflection. The bedroom light was already on when she opened the bathroom door, and Nick was waiting, already in his pyjamas. A pair of small smiles and they switched places. Diane changed quickly, aware that Nick would knock before he entered but feeling vulnerable until her pyjamas were in place.

Much as she wanted to see Nick again before she fell asleep, the day had worn on her more than she anticipated, and Diane drifted away before she’d even heard Nick come into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the cultural references start to sneak in.  
> For the record, I'm Team Cake, and if you Google 'Jaffa cake court case' there's some interesting reading. I'm not a huge tea snob, but neither do I buy super cheap tea bags. I'm guessing Nick would either not notice or have a specific brand he buys out of habit.


	4. Day 2

Diane hadn’t dressed before she came into the kitchen, not wanting to wake Nick when she’d woken so early. Instead she watched him sleep for a while, amused they’d both turned so close to each other in the night. She wondered whose hand had reached first, though it probably didn’t matter. Either way, their fingers lay between them, barely touching on the sheets and she didn’t want to lose that contact.

But it was weird to watch someone sleep, and she didn’t want Nick to wake, and ask how long she’d been awake…so she pulled her hand away, the first inch taking more effort than moving her whole body. She eased off the bed, grateful Nick stirred but did not wake. There was some light through the curtains, so she knew it wasn’t ridiculously early. Her body clock was already shifting closer to normal, whatever that meant, and there was certainly something to be said for the schedule they’d come up with.

If nothing else, they would go to bed together. Though she fell asleep before Nick the previous night, knowing he would ease into bed beside her soon had been comforting. It sounded ridiculous in her head, as she moved as quietly as possible to take her robe from its hook behind the door. The truth of it felt silly when she put it in words, and her mind was still mulling it over when she walked into the kitchen. Normally she smiled at the quiet space; it was still a bit of a surprise to find it so entirely hers. This morning was different, and she stopped at the bench, eyes drifting and cataloguing each thing that jarred her usual sense of the space.

PG Tips tea bags by the kettle.

The box from Emily still sitting on one of the chairs.

CDs and mail piled up for Emily to collect, visible near the front door.

The schedule on the fridge, Nick’s additions in different ink.

Their calendar, sticky tape holding it to the cabinets.

Diane reached up to tear another day off – they’d made it to Day Two – but she stopped. It felt wrong to do it without Nick here. She’d wait for him to get up. Glancing at the table, she wondered if she should continue on her reflections about their time in Gander. Her fingers opened the notebook, flicking through what she’d written. The paragraph on which her eyes landed was from early on; certainly she hadn’t realised the importance Nick would play in her experience there. At the rate she was going it would take a couple of notebooks at least before she’d be finished.

_Changing into another woman’s donated set of clothes, I felt different._

Diane remembered how long she’d pondered that last word. It had helped, writing it all out. Helped her make some sense of it all, especially those first hours when nobody really knew what was happening, or how they would be received in…wherever they were. Diane felt her smile fade as she remembered how alone she’d felt, despite all the people around. She’d envied anyone flying with someone they knew. Envied their ability to talk about home, about how they were feeling, to see a familiar face looking back at them as they spoke.

By the time they left, she had that with Nick. He’d never seen her house, or met her family, but there was a connection there, she felt it. And there had been that instant on the plane, the split second she thought he’d tried to kiss her but been denied it by the turbulence…

Frowning at herself, Diane closed the notebook. The narrative was still a long way from that moment. And she didn’t even know how honest she was going to be with all this. It was only for her, after all, but if Nick happened to read it, things would be…awkward. On the other hand, Diane wanted to remember every detail of their time in Gander. Every conversation, laugh, walk they’d taken together was still fresh in her mind. As she felt the cool, smooth cover under her fingers, Diane realised part of her worry about the situation in Gander was that she might forget some of the details.

Some of Nick.

Without another second thought, she picked up a pen and pulled out the chair, opening her notebook before she’d even sat down. Tempting as it was to skip forward, she picked up a little before she’d left off, filling in some gaps about Nick, plunging herself back into that first day. Now that Nick was in it Diane wouldn’t let herself edit out anything. It became more like a diary entry than anything else, and she let the memories flow without censure. Her hand was cramping and she sat back, shaking it to try and restore the blood flow when her eyes landed on Nick, standing in the doorway.

She froze, feeling herself grow red as his eyes noted her robe.

“Glad I didn’t get dressed either,” he said with a smile. “And that I packed my dressing gown.”

“Sorry,” she said, then winced and took a deep breath. “You were still asleep. So I thought I’d get up, and…” she waved one hand at what she was doing.

“Of course,” he replied, still leaning against the doorway. “We don’t have anything on the schedule for ‘before breakfast’.”

Diane smiled, grateful once more for his easy going attitude. “I just don’t want to forget anything,” she said, closing the notebook. “I was going to change the calendar but I thought we should do it together.”

“Yes,” Nick smiled. “I definitely want to be here for that.”

“I’ll remember,” Diane said. “Do you want to do the honours today?”

“Sure,” Nick replied. He pushed off the wall, and made his way across the kitchen, tearing off the top sheet, and balling it up dramatically. “Welcome to day 2.”

“Thank you,” Diane said with a smile. “Breakfast?”

“Starving,” Nick replied.

They ate, neither in any particular hurry. “Do you usually sleep late?” Diane asked. “Not that you did today, I mean.”

Nick grinned at her. “I’m much more of a night owl than my schedule will generally allow,” he admitted through his toast. “One advantage of having travelled so much for so long is that I can generally fall asleep anywhere. I don’t even know what it’s like to have a regular sleep cycle.”

Diane nodded. “I haven’t travelled much,” she said. “But I’m normally up late, then I sleep in on the weekends.”

“I love a good lie in, when I can,” Nick agreed. “But all the stars have to align – a day off, no meetings, not having travelled somewhere far away in the last week, or else I’m awake early regardless of when I get to sleep.” He smiled. “It doesn’t happen too often.”

“Well this,” Diane waved one hand at the schedule, “is only a suggestion.” She returned his smile, feeling the warmth grow between them. “You can sleep as late as you like.”

“This’ll ruin me for when I get back to London,” Nick said, though his smile faded as soon as he caught Diane’s eye. “Assuming I still have a job,” he added, and the atmosphere felt even more sober between them.

“Don’t think about it,” Diane said, reaching across the bench to rest her hand on his for a moment. “We still have almost two weeks here. And who knows what’s going to happen in that time? The world could be…” she stopped, not knowing where she was going with that. Her hand withdrew as she picked up their plates. His skin had been warm, but she pretended it didn’t matter.

“Well that went well,” Nick said, joining her at the sink. “What an uplifting conversation we managed to have.”

His grin was warm, and Diane returned it, feeling better by the second as she drew its warmth in again.

“If we’ve finished eating, we should get changed,” Diane said. “According to the schedule, now is ‘active time’.” She put air quotes around it, grinning as Nick rolled his eyes. “Ballroom dancing today, remember?”

“Yes,” Nick replied. “We’ll start with something easy.”

“There’s more than one kind?” Diane asked with exaggerated shock.

“Go and get changed,” Nick said, rolling his eyes through an amused expression. “I’ll see what they have here.” He picked up the video while she disappeared into the bedroom to change. She brushed her teeth too before reappearing and raising her eyebrows at Nick, chivvying him on.

“Won’t be a moment,” he told her.

Diane paced restlessly, her heart beating faster than usual as she waited. Was it the idea of dancing – something she had not done in a long, long time – or dancing with Nick? They’d have to be close, of course. Not that it would be the first time, but it would be for an extended time, and they’d be talking to each other, looking into each other’s eyes…

_Stop it._

When Nick reappeared Diane had filled water glasses for them both. “Should I put shoes on?” she asked, not realising she was uneasy until she spoke. “Would that be easier?”

“It probably doesn’t matter,” Nick replied. “For the first lesson.”

“Assuming we make it to the second,” Diane muttered.

“What little faith you have in the video,” Nick said with a grin. “Or is it me you’re worried about?”

“Of course not,” Diane replied. “You, I know.” She peered at the video cover. “Ramondo here, I’ve never met before.”

“Well I’ll correct him if he’s wrong,” Nick told her.

“Okay, then,” Diane said. She tried to smile at him.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Nick said, stepping closer. “It’s meant to be fun, not torture.”

“Not even if it’s on the schedule?” Diane asked. “Or the list?”

“Not even then,” Nick replied calmly.

Diane let his words sink in before she spoke. “No, it’s fine.”

“Should we get started?” Nick asked.

“Sure,” Diane replied.

Nick started the video, and they began watching Ramondo and his partner. Diane knew she was meant to be aware of Nick; he was her dance partner now. She used the excuse of watching the television screen to avoid his eyes as they settled in their initial dance position. Their connection was so carefully copied from the video that it felt strange, not at all like the natural contacts they usually shared. A hug brought them far closer than this but she was usually overwhelmed by emotion, not concentrating on every point of contact. It gave Diane space to think.

About how his shoulder felt under her hand.

About how carefully his hand held hers.

About how steady his arm was as it supported her shoulder blade.

Not all that conducive to dancing as it turned out.

“This is hard,” Diane said, knowing her face was flushed. It was more embarrassment at how little she could concentrate rather than how bad she was at dancing. Nick didn’t know how poorly she was concentrating, of course, but it didn’t stop her being embarrassed as she stepped on his toes yet again.

“You’re doing fine,” Nick said with a patient smile.

“You’re not making any mistakes,” Diane retorted, frustrated.

“I’ve done this before,” Nick reminded her. “Years of it, remember?”

“Yes,” Diane said, still self-conscious. She smiled tightly. “Let’s try again?”

Nick nodded, and they worked their way through the first lesson. Diane managed to pull herself together enough to be able to follow the directions at least a little, and by the end, they were able to dance through a song more or less together.

“That wasn’t terrible,” Nick commented when the lesson was over. The VCR began to whirr as it rewinded the tape. “Shall I leave this ready to go for tomorrow?”

“‘Not terrible’ isn’t great,” Diane pointed out.

“No,” Nick said calmly. “But maybe we’ll be great tomorrow.”

She looked at him sceptically. “Are you always such an optimist?”

He considered the question, a smile quirking around his mouth. “I think I am,” he said. “Most of the time.”

Diane stared at him. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing,” she said, and when he laughed she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

“We can try a different style tomorrow,” Nick offered. “Or move onto lesson two.”

“Or we could do the first lesson again,” Diane countered. “At least then I’ll have a shot at not being terrible again.”

“You weren’t terrible today,” Nick reminded her. He picked up the water glasses and handed one to her.

“Okay,” Diane replied. “But we’re done for today, right?”

“We are,” Nick said. “Did you want to use the bathroom first?”

“Thanks,” Diane said, draining her water glass.

When Nick emerged from his shower, clean shaven again and in a clean shirt, Diane was writing in her notebook again. She stopped short of calling it a journal, though it contained more personal thoughts than she’d intended. It was just…what she remembered.

“Joining me?” she asked when Nick sat down opposite her.

“It seems to be part of the routine,” Nick replied. “And I’m making progress.”

“Me too,” Diane said.

They settled into their work. Now that she was relaxing into it, Diane found the process of writing down everything she could remember cathartic. After this morning’s decision, the words flowed much faster, and she could feel her worries about that time slowly abating. She’d come as far as the day of the Screech In when she first faltered. That day was different to the others. It wasn’t that she was unwilling to write about it; she hadn’t sorted through it all in her head quite yet.

Restless, Diane put her pen down, stretching. She could see that Nick was still writing, and she smiled at the frown of concentration on his face. Decision made, Diane closed her notebook.

_Enough for right now. Spend some time thinking about that day before you try and write about it._

“I’m ready for a break,” she told him.

“Just a moment,” he murmured distractedly. A few more lines, and he placed his pen down, closing his book. “Done,” he said. “For the moment, of course.”

“Where are you up to?” Diane asked. “Are you ready for lunch?”

“Certainly,” Nick replied. He opened the fridge, taking out the leftover tacos. “I’ll pick up with the Screech In.”

“Me too,” Diane said. “Around about.”

Nick nodded. He passed Diane some of the food, and in exchange she gave him a plate. “It’s more therapeutic than I anticipated,” he said. “Recalling all the events helps to bring everything together.”

Diane hummed in agreement. She wasn’t really ready to discuss it all with Nick, not considering how heavily he was featuring in her notes. Although they had spent so much time together in Gander, her recollections of him were more than friendly. And that wasn’t something she was prepared to discuss. Not now, with twelve days still together in their small apartment.

_Her._

Her apartment.

They ate largely in silence, Diane aware that her introspection was casting a pall over the atmosphere. Nick didn’t seem too bothered; he appeared to be content to eat, only murmured comments breaking the silence.

“Sorry,” Diane said, finally putting the last of the taco fixings away. “I think my head’s still half in Gander right now.”

“I thought we’d agreed not to apologise to each other,” Nick said with a smile.

“I’m fairly sure we agreed not to thank each other,” Diane countered good-naturedly.

“Oh, yes,” Nick said. “That’s right.” He smiled again, and Diane felt her heart flip. “But you don’t need to apologise, either.”

“It didn’t happen yesterday,” Diane told him. She didn’t explain how much things had changed in just one day.

“Well maybe we can do something different today,” Nick suggested.

“Sure,” Diane said. “I’m assuming you have an idea?”

“Why don’t we start with a hug,” Nick suggested.

Diane smiled at him, stepping around the edge of the bench and into Nick’s arms.

_It’s been too long._

Less than one day. It had been less than one day since she’d last hugged Nick and been hugged in return.

_How is this too long?_

She closed her eyes, breathing him in with every pore on her body. How could she have not realised what was making it more difficult to find her equilibrium? He surrounded her whole being and smoothed out the edges. She concentrated on that, pulling the positives into her mind as they breathed together. Nick’s arms were tight around her, and she let herself be pulled against his body.

It was good.

It was _right._

Despite all the good surrounding her, one doubt crept into Diane’s mind.

_What will I do when he goes?_

_I can’t…_

_No._

_This is finite._

The hug ended, each of them easing away until they were smiling at each other, still standing close.

“I figured the modelling clay was kind of a last resort,” Nick said finally, “unless you’d particularly like to?”

Diane grinned despite herself. “Maybe not today,” she told him. His easy manner helped her mood once again and she wondered how much different it would be if he wasn’t here with her.

“Well then, are you in the mood for collaboration or competition?” Nick asked.

“What?” Diane asked.

_Collaboration or competition?_

As she watched, Nick walked over and reached into the box Emily had dropped over. He pulled out two books. Different issues of the same crossword magazine, she could see.

“We could work together,” he said, “or if you’d rather, see who can complete their crossword first.”

Diane looked at the magazines, wondering what Nick was thinking. “What would you rather?” she said cautiously.

He shrugged. “I thought you were the one that needed cheering up,” he said good-naturedly. His eyes assessed her for a second, then he grinned. “But I would wager I would beat you if you were feeling so inclined.”

Despite herself, Diane felt an eyebrow rise. There was clearly a challenge there – if she cared to take it. Nick was standing patiently, waiting for her to make a decision. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were quietly amused.

_It doesn’t seem right to work against him. Even for amusement._

“I think I’d rather work with you than against you,” Diane said quietly.

Nick must have been expecting her to either accept or decline his offer with the same edge of amusement as it had been offered, because the light in his eyes dimmed as he studied her face.

“Of course,” Nick replied, echoing her solemnity.

They sat together at the table, a crossword open between them. Nick took the seat to the left, glancing at Diane. “I can write with both hands,” he told her. “If I sit on this side we can both work on the same puzzle.”

“Can you?” Diane said in astonishment. “Okay.”

She watched as he picked up a pen with his left hand, fascinated to see the neat letters he created as he filled in the first clue. He glanced up and Diane couldn’t help but smile at his self-conscious expression.

“That’s amazing,” she told him.

“Thank you,” he replied, with a tentative smile. He turned back to the puzzle and after a moment, so did Diane.

They worked well together, as it turned out. Without discussing it, Nick started from one side of the page and Diane the other, filling in clues across and down. It was peaceful. Diane never really grew accustomed to her shoulder brushing Nick’s every time one of them shifted, though. Each contact sent a tiny buzz through her, drawing some attention away from the crossword.

As they worked their way across the puzzle, filling in tiny squares like stepping stones, Diane felt herself relax. The buzz wasn’t increasing her tension; instead it eased her nerves. She felt Nick’s quiet presence wind around her until mind and muscles had let go of the concern they held. It really was remarkable, she thought as they both reached for the same clue in the middle of the puzzle.

Diane glanced up to find Nick looking back at her.

“You do it,” she said, lifting her pen.

Nick hesitated, looking at the clue, then back at the box. “I’m not sure of the answer,” he admitted.

Diane looked over, surprised, then down at the clue. For such a long word, it had few crossovers.

_17 Down. Lucky Charms’ soft additions (12)._

“Ah,” she said. “It’s a drawback doing an American crossword when you’re English,” she said, filling in the blank squares. Nick was watching her face, but when she finished, he looked down at the slightly wonky lettering.

_Marshmallows._

“And Lucky Charms are…” he asked, trailing off.

“Breakfast cereal,” Diane murmured.

Nick made a noise of understanding, but he didn’t say anything. Diane felt her heart beating faster each second Nick didn’t speak. He was nodding to himself, and when he finally opened his mouth, Diane felt her breath catch until she knew what he was going to say.

“You would have won, had you chosen to play against me.”

Diane exhaled, smiling in relief.

_He’s not cross._

_Why would I think he would be?_

“I’d rather work with you,” she said.

“So you said,” Nick replied. That smile was back again, only this time it was very close. “Should we do another?”

Diane nodded, flicking through the book. “These all look about the same,” she said. “How about we see how fast we can do the next one?”

Nick looked at her. “You want to time us doing a crossword together?”

Diane shrugged, feeling her face heat. It sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud like that, and especially with the surprise threaded through it. “Did you have a better idea?” she said feeling his eyes on her.

“No,” he said finally. “I’m just thinking we should write down our times.”

“Sure,” Diane said. She found a piece of paper, but her pen hesitated at the top. “What should we call it?”

Nick considered the question. “I’d like to think of something clever,” he said eventually, “but all I can think of is ‘Crossword Times’.”

Diane grinned. “Okay,” she said. In big letters she wrote the title across the top. “How are we going to time it?”

Nick held up his wrist, the face of his watch catching the light. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” Diane told him, picking up her pen.

They’d worked through half a dozen crosswords before Diane leaned back, stretching against her sore back.

“Done?” Nick asked.

“I think so,” Diane replied, capping the pen. “For today, at least.”

“What should we do with this?” Nick asked, picking up the paper bearing their times. He’d used one of Emily’s coloured pencils to highlight their record times. Diane remembered how carefully he’d outlined the square drawn around the number each time they’d beaten their record.

“Place of honour,” she told him, taking it and standing up. “That’s honour without a ‘u’,” she reminded him. She was sure he rolled his eyes at her, even though her back was turned so she could tape the record sheet to another overhead cabinet.

“Place of honour?” Nick asked. “On a cabinet?”

“Not just any cabinet,” Diane told him, opening it with a flourish. “This cabinet contains…”

“Tea,” Nick finished with a smile.

“Tea,” Diane repeated. She glanced at her watch. “Although it’s closer to cocktail hour now.”

“It is,” Nick replied. “Iced tea again?”

“Sure,” Diane replied.

She’d fixed hers with less bourbon this time. Not that a single shot in yesterday’s was excessive, but she didn’t want to get too used to it. Strange how the disapproval of her ex-husband still governed her responses to things, even though she’d tried hard to move away from those memories. The thought pulled a wry smile from her lips, and she glanced up to see Nick’s eyes on hers.

“What?” she said, heat crawling up her cheeks under his gaze.

It took a moment; he brought his glass to his lips before answering.

“Nothing,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

Diane could feel the atmosphere between them sliding, and she fought it. They’d had a good afternoon with the crosswords; despite how close she and Nick had been sitting, it had not been as distracting as she’d imagined it might be. Now was not the time to let things become…complicated.

She didn’t want to ruin things. Or let things be ruined.

“What should we make for dinner?” she asked, knowing her smile was too bright. She found the recipes Emily had left, sifting through them, hating that her hands were shaking. Nick’s eyes were on her again, and she knew he was assessing things again. Part of her brain wondered if it was a bit strange. Mostly, though, it felt protective. As though he was trying to figure out what the next right thing would be to do.

“Well,” he said finally, and the movement in her peripheral vision was him moving around the bench, standing beside her to read over her shoulder. “What do you want?”

Diane swallowed. “Something easy,” she said. “I’m not sure I can concentrate on anything complicated.”

“Spaghetti?” Nick asked, easing a page free from the pile.

“Sure,” Diane said, relieved.

It was another quiet evening together as they moved around the kitchen. Nick talked, reminiscing about their time in Gander. Diane suspected he was retelling specific stories to make her smile; his easy delivery ensured it worked. Along with her doctored tea, it helped her relax, and soon they’d finished eating.

As Nick washed up, Diane dried the dishes, putting them away as she went. They’d fallen into silence as they worked, and when it was done, Diane returned Nick’s smile.

“Time to turn in,” Diane said. “I might finish my book in bed.”

“Sure,” Nick replied, drying his hands. “I’m going to finish the notes I was making this morning.”

“Okay,” Diane said. She hesitated before moving over to the bookcase. By the time she’d turned around Nick was seated at the table, his head bent to the task. He was writing with his right hand, she noticed, and the significance of that detail warmed her somewhere inside. She wanted to smile, but held it in for some reason. Tossing her book on the bed, she tried to figure it out. As she brushed her teeth, staring at the tiny crease between her eyebrows, Diane wondered why she’d not wanted to show her…

_…affection._

She paused, foam threatening to spill out of the side of her mouth before he could spit it into the sink. _Amusement._ She’d meant to finish the sentence with that word, but instead it was affection that had come to the fore. But she couldn’t. Not with so many days still ahead of them.

With a sigh, Diane rinsed her mouth, the towel scraping against her mouth as she wiped away the last of the toothpaste. Her book was somehow less interesting now, and she curled into her pillow instead, hoping sleep would take her away for a few hours.


	5. Day 3

Diane was heavy. Or the way out of sleep was heavy, she wasn’t quite sure, but it was a struggle. Either way, the light wasn’t pulling hard enough for her to move fully into consciousness, so she fell back into sleep.

+++

The second time, the pull was stronger, and though she fought it, her mind eased into consciousness. Still reluctant, Diane catalogued her body, putting off the moment of opening her eyes. One pyjama leg was rucked up; that calf was cooler than the other, though the sheets were warm. The blanket was heavy over her shoulders, and she eased down into the warmth, burrowing into it.

The thoughts in her mind were few and simple.

_Outside is too much._

_Warm is good._

_Stay here._

Vague ideas flowed through her mind, floating like bubbles that burst before they could settle. She was home, and Nick was here, and they had a whole day of nothingness in front of them. Despite the previous days’ structure distracting her well enough, now it felt too restrictive. Pretending not to want to…even finishing the sentence was too hard, finding the right words for the overwhelming ideas in her mind. How would journal writing and dance lessons fill so many hours? A short term distraction before the day again stretched out ahead, hours upon hours of fighting herself again.

_Why bother?_

A slight frown against the light, and Diane dragged the blanket up over her head.

_Not today._

+++

The clink of something hard hitting the wood beside her head was enough to startled her awake again. Carefully, Diane inched the blanket from her face, though her eyes remained pressed shut. It was still light, but the curtains were closed; it wasn’t bright enough for them to be open. As far as she could tell, she was alone in the room.

_He’s gone._

It took Diane a while to understand the thought. The clink had been something landing on her bedside table, and with nobody else in the apartment, it must have been Nick. He brought something in. Diane lay with that for a moment before curiosity overtook her and she opened her eyes, blinking against the brightness. She rolled her head, focussing up to the bedside table.

The pattern was familiar; it was her favourite mug. Steam rose gently, angling off out of her field of view.

_He brought you tea._

_He brought you tea and left._

Diane stared at the twisting vines, wondering if Nick knew it was her favourite mug. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had noticed. She remembered how he watched her. How she’d wondered if it was creepy, but decided it was protective. Perhaps this was another point on the side of the protective.

As she eased herself up, the cool air in her lungs almost burned after the warm humidity under the blanket. The air crept down her neck, too; she pulled the blanket higher. Sitting up against the headboard gave her a different perspective of her bedside table, and now she could see what sat beside the mug. A note, and a saucer bearing two Jaffa cakes.

She reached through the cold air for the note. She recognised the handwriting.

_Since I will never admit to liking them, you best eat these._ _J - Nick_

It took a second before she remembered. Considering how little there was to do, it felt like a lot had happened in the hours since they’d opened Emily’s care package together. How long had it been? It wasn’t yesterday. Was it the day before? Either way, she should probably call her sister. She’d have to get up, go to the phone. Face Nick. Talk to people. The idea was far too much right at the moment.

Glancing at her bedside table, Diane decided on the next thing. One thing at a time, she could manage that much.

_Drink the tea. Eat the biscuits._

Slowly, she set the note back on the bedside table, picking up the mug as her hand returned. The tea was a promising colour, and as she took a tentative sip the warmth blossomed through her. She wrapped her hands around the mug, drawing the heat into her fingers, too. She allowed her eyes to roam around the room, dancing over the familiarity of her own things, lingering over the neat pile of Nick’s belongings on the far side of the bed. The quiet around her was absolute and she wondered tentatively what Nick was doing that was keeping him so completely occupied.

She must have sipped at her mug as her thoughts roamed, because suddenly it was empty. She set the mug down, exchanging it for the Jaffa cakes though she wasn’t hungry. It was strange how the small sensations registered, even as her brain refused to consider bigger things. The cake was soft, the orange jelly sharp against her tongue. Swallowing felt like an effort, yet all of a sudden her hand was empty. She must have eaten the biscuits, then. At a loss, Diane drew her hands back under the blanket, tucking it under her chin.

_What next?_

She needed the bathroom. The steady pressure was insistent, and now that she’d realised it there was no denying it. _Darn it._

There was no way around it. With a sigh, she shifted, fixing the leg of her pyjamas as they moved over the edge of the mattress. The floor was cold and hard against her feet. Her toes flexed into it as the blanket slid off her shoulders and she drew a deep breath, allowing her body to adjust to the upright posture. She held her breath until the bathroom door closed behind her. Nick might have heard her careful steps but he wouldn’t interrupt her in here.

Diane’s body was on autopilot; she did what people do in bathrooms. Use the toilet, wash hands, brush teeth. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, and besides, watching her hands roll together amongst the suds was hypnotic. Arranging the hand towel back on the towel rail, lips still tingling from where she’d wiped away a stray smear of toothpaste, there was nothing else left to do.

Opening the door seemed like a gunshot. Loud in the silence. She froze, glancing towards the kitchen, guilty at her relief when Nick did not appear. She felt like a small child as she tiptoed back to bed, anxious to burrow back under the covers. She should talk to Nick, she knew. But to say what? And when the idea of words was so difficult. To choose, to shape, to speak…

_Too difficult._

Trying to ignore the flush of shame, Diane climbed back into bed, rolling towards the empty side of the bed. Nick had straightened the bedding on the far side when he rose, and her tugging had skewed the line of fabric. Not that it mattered. It was her field of vision, and all she could consider at the moment. Her eyelids dropped closed, then opened again; the view was, unsurprisingly unchanged, even as something else registered in her mind.

A sound.

Footsteps.

_Nick._

The footsteps were carefully deliberate. Like he didn’t want to startle her.

“Diane.” His voice was quiet. She couldn’t see him; his voice came from the doorway behind her.

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond.

_What would I say?_

“You don’t have to say anything,” Nick continued. “I brought you some water and your journal. In case you want something to do.”

His careful consideration tore at her heart, and she swallowed, pushing against her dry throat

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

_If you need anything…_

The words rolled around in her head. They were comforting enough to buoy her into a doze again.

+++

Diane wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew. She had not fallen quite completely asleep, but now she was definitely awake.

Her eyes opened, and her brain drew a conclusion.

Later.

It was later, but the blankets were still awry.

_How do I know that?_

It was the light.

She could tell because the light was different. The blankets it hit were at the same angle, but the light was not.

So it must be later.

Holding onto that one small truth made it easier to move. Pulling the blanket with her, Diane dragged herself up the bed, resting against the headboard as she had earlier.

Her eyes moved around the room, settling on her bedside table.

She could see tiny bubbles clinging to the inside of the glass Nick had left earlier. Her journal was tucked behind it, a pen hooked over the top of the cover, just as he’d said.

She stared at it until her neck cricked. Finally, her hand reached out for the water and she took a sip. The journal slipped down, making a soft whump as it landed flat against the wood. The idea of writing was too much, but Diane appreciated that Nick wasn’t pushing. It was vaguely embarrassing, still lying here at whatever time this was. There was no way she would normally still be in bed, even if she wasn’t doing anything particularly productive. She could almost hear her ex-husband’s harsh words for someone who lay about in bed all day, and the memory made her shiver.

Why was he so present lately? Ever since they’d returned from Gander. Well, only a couple of times, but that was a couple of times more than in the whole last year, at least. And yet Diane had thought of him when they’d poured the bourbon, bought by a David unaware of his father’s views on women who drank alcohol. His voice had registered disapproval again the next time, and here it was again, when the world was overwhelming.

Diane returned the empty glass, setting it on top of the journal. From the next room the phone rang, and she froze like an animal in a spotlight, panic flooding her system. It rang only once, and she heard Nick’s voice, a gentle murmur that still managed to sound so very English, even as his words were too low to make out. She assumed it was someone looking for her, so it was a surprise when the conversation continued for several minutes; Nick sounded amused, then determined, and amused again. She had no idea who he could be talking to, and when his voice stopped, she wondered what they had been talking about. Surely he would take a message, and she would find out soon enough.

Before her mind drifted away, his voice sounded again, far closer this time.

“You’re awake,” Nick said, and Diane jumped, turning to meet his eyes.

He was still holding the phone, standing in the doorway as though waiting for permission to enter.

“Yes,” Diane replied. The single word was an effort, and she pulled the blanket up around herself again, self-conscious about their relative positions. About what he might think of someone who lay in bed so late in the day.

“That was your sister,” Nick said. “She’d like to speak with you.”

Diane nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Indecision flicked across Nick’s face until he finally asked, “Would it be…can I come in?”

“Of course,” Diane replied, heat flushing up her face. Why did this feel weird, when they’d slept right next to each other two nights already? She watched as he sat on the edge of her bed, near where her feet would be were they not tucked up. “What did you tell her?”

She hated that she asked, but knowing her sister she wouldn’t really have taken a non-answer, no matter how politely British the speaker had been.

“The truth,” Nick said calmly, meeting her eyes. His voice was quiet and gentle. “Well, a variation on the truth,” he admitted, mirth sneaking into his tone.

“Variation?” Diane echoed.

“Jet lag plus worry means neither of us has been sleeping well, so you were having a nap,” Nick replied. “It’s not…entirely false.”

“No,” Diane murmured. She shifted her weight a little. “Thank you.” It felt insufficient, so she tried to find more words. “I don’t know…” the frown pulled at her brow, the muscles tensing without permission, and she was scowling as much at herself for this ridiculous display as anything else.

There were _his_ words again.

_Ridiculous display._

Diane could feel herself pulling in again, and she shook herself, pushing the voice out of her head, looking away from Nick in case he saw her struggle.

“Diane,” Nick said, and the gentle slope of her name in his voice worked better than any of her own efforts to push the derisive comments out of her head.

She took a deep breath, raising her eyes to meet his again.

“It’s fine,” he murmured. “You don’t have to explain.” His smile was small, and somehow that made tears well alarmingly fast. She blinked, mortified that he would even see her like this. “What can I do to-”

He was cut off by the phone, ringing in his hand.

Diane felt her eyes go wide, meeting his as it rang again.

His eyes asked the question, and she nodded, biting her lip as he raised it to answer.

“Hello, Nick speaking,” he said. “Hi, Emily.”

A pause as he listened, his eyes on her face.

_Why is she calling again?_

“I don’t know if I woke her earlier,” Nick said, eyes watching Diane carefully as he spoke. “If you’ll excuse me, I will go and see. If she’s awake she will call you back.” To Diane’s astonishment, he hung up.

“You hung up,” she said.

“I did,” Nick replied. He looked a little guilty. “I didn’t know if you wanted to speak with her or not.”

“That’s…very kind,” Diane said finally. She sighed, looking at the phone as though there might be a ‘block sister’ option she hadn’t noticed earlier. Emily wouldn’t give up, Diane knew it. Although she had been wonderfully helpful since they’d arrived, she was also one to take things into her own hands, as the CDs, condoms and modelling clay had shown.

“She’ll keep ringing until she speaks to me,” Diane murmured.

“She made that clear,” Nick said.

“What did you talk about earlier?” Diane asked, as much out of interest as to put off the inevitable.

“She asked me about Gander, home, the flight, how you were, if you’d mentioned me, what we’d been doing,” Nick listed. “I think she just wanted me to keep talking so I would wake you up.”

“Sounds right,” Diane replied. At least this conversation had prepared her for talking to Emily. Words were coming more easily, and the tears that had threatened were gone now that she was concentrating on this conversation. With a deep breath she held out her hand. “I might as well get it over with.”

Nick nodded, passing her the phone. “I’ll make us some tea,” he said.

Diane pressed the speed dial for her sister and nodded at Nick as he rose. She was already bracing for this conversation and the phone hadn’t even started ringing yet. Why was talking to Nick so much easier than her own sister? Good Lord in Heaven, she was a mess.

“H’lo,” Emily answered, chipper as she so often was.

“Hi,” Diane managed. “It’s me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’s a ‘Nick’ not a ‘Nicholas’?” Emily said, her usual abrupt shift from greetings into big sister mode jarring.

“It didn’t seem that important,” Diane said, immediately on the defensive. She didn’t have the energy for this today. “Did you want something in particular?”

“Just checking in,” Emily said. “Wanted to see how you and Nick are going, stuck inside with nothing to do.”

Diane tried to smile. She was not having this conversation about Nick with Emily, certainly not now when she didn’t even know what was going on and absolutely certainly not with Nick in the next room.

“We’re fine,” Diane said. “You provided plenty of things to do, remember?”

“I do,” Emily said. “How’s the exercise going?” She giggled. “Did you have a go at the boxercise?”

“We did,” Diane said, determined not to give into her sister’s obvious bating. “Not really the right choice for us, I think.”

“Maybe the dancing will be more your speed,” Emily said, and Diane could hear her smirk clearly down the phone.

“Nick is a very good dancer, actually,” Diane said. “He didn’t even need the video.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Emily remarked, and before Diane could protest, went on, “Seriously, Di, can you talk now? Or should I just ask yes/no questions?”

“No,” Diane said firmly, and Nick returned at that moment, two mugs of tea in his hands. He put Diane’s down on her bedside table and made to leave, but she reached out, taking his wrist. He looked at her in surprise.

She didn’t say anything – how could she, with her interfering sister on the open phone line – but Nick must have seen the expression on her face because he turned back, sitting on the edge of her bed. Close enough to put his mug down, which meant Diane had to scoot over a little; she could feel the dip in the mattress beside her toes.

“Diane?” Emily’s voice was shrill in her ear as she turned her attention back to the phone.

“I’m here,” Diane said. “I don’t know what else you want to know, really.”

“Well, plenty, but I can see that will have to wait a bit,” Emily said. “Do you need anything?”

“We have some mail to go out,” Diane said. “Mainly bills. And you can come and get your CDs whenever you like.”

She looked at Nick as peals of laughter rang down the phone. Without changing expression, he pulled the open box of Jaffa Cakes out of his pocket and offered them to her. She gave him a small smile and took one, waiting patiently for her sister to stop laughing.

Nick winked and took a Jaffa Cake for himself before tucking the packet away again.

“I thought you’d like those,” Emily said. “What did Nick think?”

“I had to explain the joke,” Diane replied without looking at Nick. The chocolate of her Jaffa cake was starting to melt against her fingers, so she placed it on her journal on the bedside table.

“But did it lead to any interesting conversations?” Emily asked. “I mean, has he been married?”

“Emily!” Diane rebuked her. “I have no idea why that’s relevant.”

“Well,” Emily started, but Diane cut her off.

“Don’t,” she said. Although she wasn’t looking at him, she could see Nick start at her tone. “Please,” she added, working hard to soften her voice. “Thank you for the box of thing you put together. We appreciate it.”

Nick had been sitting very still until now, when a movement caught Diane’s eye. He’d reached out, laying his hand palm up on the blanket near her. Carefully she slid her hand into his. Their fingers curled and settled, and Diane’s brain had to ignore whatever Emily was saying in favour of cataloguing every stroke of skin against Nick’s hand.

Finally, she realised Emily was still talking, and it didn’t really matter.

_This matters. This is easier._

“If you’re done,” Diane said, interrupting her sister with a sigh, “I think I’ll go.”

“Lots to do?” Emily replied, voice heavy with innuendo.

Diane vaguely wondered what her sister had been saying. No doubt her inattention would come back to bite her at some point.

“Something like that,” Diane replied. She met Nick’s eyes and they shared a tiny smile that seemed to bind them in their opinion of Emily.

_She’s certainly a handful._

Emily didn’t seem to notice Diane’s sidestepping of her question. “Leave the CDs and bills on your doormat and I’ll pick them up tomorrow night,” she said. “I’ll call again in a couple of days. In case you need anything.”

“Okay,” Diane replied. “Thanks.”

She hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed beside her. She sighed again. Thank God that was over. Nick’s fingers squeezed gently around hers, and Diane returned the pressure, grateful for his presence and quiet support.

“I don’t know why that was so hard,” Diane said, the emotion welling again in the stillness. Nick didn’t reply. “I think…I didn’t expect to talk to anyone else for a while maybe.”

Nick was still quiet. Diane didn’t speak again, and the silence was a relief. It settled over them, and she realised this was why it was odd having Emily here, even if it was just down the phone line. It felt like an intrusion. Even in the relatively few hours since they’d arrived in her flat – and she’d hung up with Emily the first time – a bubble had formed around them. It was surprisingly easy, just the two of them moving around each other. Occasionally loud, but mostly quiet. Occasionally awkward, but mostly comfortable. Their rhythm was one of the most relaxed she could remember experiencing, and having nothing to distract her here made it even more apparent.

Emily’s presence upset that. Much as Diane loved her sister, there was always a part of her that had to censor herself, keep a part of herself back. Yet as she sat here with Nick, holding his hand while she was tucked up in bed, Diane had to admit to herself that she didn’t share everything with him. There were things she held back – but that was different. She was ashamed to even admit to herself that her hesitance with Nick was related to her experience with her ex-husband. He was nothing like Nick, but those old scars were deep.

“Did she want something in particular?” Nick asked quietly.

As Diane wondered what she should tell him, his thumb made a pass across the back of her hand. As it eased back, settling into a slow cadence, she drew a breath.

“Just checking in,” she said. “In her usual way.”

“A bit too…” Nick trailed off.

“Pushy?” Diane said. “Nosy?”

“She was certainly inquisitive,” Nick said with a smile.

The silence in between was still soothing Diane’s nerves, easing her back into the good place they’d been before...well, before today.

“Thank you,” Diane said quietly.

“For what?” Nick asked.

Diane considered the question, half her mind concentrating on Nick’s thumb against her skin.

“Today,” she said. “All of it.”

Nick nodded.

“What time is it?”

Nick glanced at his watch. “Cocktail hour,” he said with a smile.

“Oh,” Diane said. “I should probably get up.”

“If you want to,” Nick said, with his usual deference. “Or we could have a picnic here.”

“A what?” Diane asked, taken aback.

“A picnic,” Nick said. He looked a bit uncertain. “You do call it that here?”

“Oh, yes,” Diane said, realising what he’d thought. “I just…didn’t expect you to suggest that.”

Nick shrugged. “We could,” he said. “If you wanted.”

Diane looked at him, a half-laugh, half-sob burbling up. “We haven’t done any of the things on the list today,” she said, knowing it sounded ridiculous. “None of them.”

“I’m starting to think the list might be a bit of a stretch,” Nick said. “Perhaps we could consider it more of a set of guidelines rather than strict instructions?”

“Yes please,” Diane said, and his consideration was enough to push her to tears again. This time she couldn’t hold it back, and as they slid down her cheeks she laid her head on her knees. Her hand was still in Nick’s, and his thumb hadn’t stopped its path across the back of her hand. It was comforting and consistent. He wasn’t pushing himself into her space, but it was clear he wasn’t leaving either.

As far as possible from her ex-husband. Why did that make her cry harder? And why, oh why, was she still thinking about him?

“Is there anything I can do?” Nick asked quietly.

Diane’s brain was still pondering her ex, so this question was so unexpected she laughed, a wet half-sob into her blanket.

_Oh dear._

“You are nothing like my ex-husband.” The words were muffled, pressed into her blanket, and she wouldn’t have been sure Nick had heard, except that his thumb hitched on her hand.

_He heard me._

“That sounds like a good thing,” Nick said. His voice was cautious, but his thumb renewed its slow passage.

“It is,” Diane said. This was not a conversation she wanted to have necessarily, but it seemed they were here. “I don’t…I don’t usually think about him. Much. At all.”

Nick didn’t speak.

“He wasn’t…great,” she continued awkwardly.

“Did something remind you of him recently?”

“The bourbon,” Diane said. “I don’t really drink.”

“I thought that was a housewarming present,” Nick replied. “From…David?”

“I tried not to criticize his father,” Diane said quietly. “But he had opinions. About things. About everything.”

“About drinking,” Nick surmised.

“Yes,” Diane replied. “Women drinking in particular.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

“You didn’t know,” Diane replied.

“You could have said no,” Nick told her. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

Diane shrugged. Another way Nick was different to her ex-husband. She sighed, suddenly very aware of her tear-stained face and un-brushed hair. “I should get up,” she said. “Besides, crumbs.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Well,” Nick said, easing to stand up, “why don’t you do what you need to do, and I’ll see what I can do about the picnic.”

“Okay,” Diane replied.

Nick smiled, his hand slipping out of hers before he left the room.

Diane took a moment, thinking about how much her mood had changed since she’d woken that morning. Her hand absently stroked the back of her hand, tracing the warmth Nick had left there. No, it was later than that. Since Nick had arrived. A small part of her felt like she should be more astonished, yet the realisation that Nick had gently eased her out of her despair was completely unsurprising. She still felt fragile, as though normal was a long way away, but getting up was no longer an overwhelming idea. Not if Nick was there.

In the bathroom, the small ritual of washing her face and brushing her teeth made her feel better. The familiar scent of her toiletries helped; using them in Gander had not been quite the same. When she was done, Diane wondered if she should get dressed but instead settled for adding her dressing gown over her pyjamas. She took a deep breath before venturing out to see what Nick was doing.

Whatever she’d wanted to say, the words evaporated when she saw what he’d set up. Without thinking, she stepped into the living room, looking over Nick’s work.

The blanket from the back of the sofa was spread out over the rug. A plate of sandwiches, fruit and Jaffa Cakes sat on the coffee table. Two water glasses, a jug of water and a tea tray sat beside it. Just in case she wanted tea, Diane thought to herself.

Speechless, she turned to Nick, who was standing by the kettle. Belatedly she heard the rumble as it neared boiling point.

“Excellent timing,” he said. “Would you like tea?”

Diane nodded, still not sure what to say. She watched Nick pour hot water, and he smiled as he handed her a mug.

“The milk is on the tray,” he said, indicating behind her.

“I saw,” Diane managed. “Thank you.”

Another smile, and Nick followed her. Diane hesitated, then lowered herself on the blanket.

“If you want to sit here,” Nick said, “you’ll be able to watch the movie.”

“The movie?”

“I thought something light,” Nick said. He grinned. “I wasn’t sure if this was yours or one of David’s.” He held up a video cassette. When Diane frowned, he handed it over.

“ _The Muppet Movie_ ,” she read. A slow smile spread over her face. “Definitely one of David’s,” she said. “One of his favourites when he was little.” She handed it back to Nick. “I must have seen it a hundred times.”

“So?” Nick asked.

“A good choice,” Diane said. “Thank you,” she added as he turned to turn on the television.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

They both doctored their tea, and Nick settled beside Diane on the floor. The food platter was heavy as Diane lifted it so Nick would be able to reach. As she placed it between them, she realised how much work was actually in it. “Did you make all this while I was in the bathroom?”

“Some of it earlier,” Nick admitted. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be hungry.”

Taking a couple of sandwiches, Diane looked at him. He shrugged, and she was fascinated to see his cheeks grow pink. “I didn’t have anything else to do,” he said, and it sounded defensive and just a bit like an excuse.

Before she could reply, the movie started, and they both stopped to watch the opening few minutes. When it settled into dialogue, she turned to face Nick, picking up their conversation.

“Sorry,” Diane said. “You must have been bored on your own.”

Nick, who’d just taken a piece of apple, chewed and swallowed before answering her. “I thought we weren’t going to apologise to each other.” He didn’t look upset, and his words were matter of fact. Quiet, as Diane would have expected.

“What did you do?” Diane asked. They hadn’t stopped the movie; the familiar shapes and voices played on as they talked.

“Wrote some more,” Nick said. “Made sandwiches, obviously.”

Diane smiled. “Did crosswords?”

“No,” Nick replied, returning her smile. “Not that I would have beaten our time on my own. Too many Americanisms.”

Diane felt her smile widen. “Lucky charms?” she said, remembering the first clue by which he’d been baffled.

“Indeed,” Nick murmured.

Their conversation fell by the way for a while, the noise and movement from the movie taking over as they ate and drank. It was close to the comfortable they’d enjoyed the previous day, before whatever had happened overnight and led to this morning.

As the movie finished, Diane stretched, blinking. Her hunger had abated now that she’d eaten, and her mug was empty. Unbelievably, fatigue was pulling at her eyelids again, though it was more of a natural weariness than the despair of earlier.

“Better?” Nick asked.

“Much,” Diane replied.

“Good,” he said. “Because there’s something we need to do.”

Diane’s heart skipped a beat when he held out his hand, but she took it and allowed herself to be pulled up. Nick led them into the kitchen, and the heightened anxiety she felt eased when he stopped them in front of their calendar.

It still showed ‘2’.

“You didn’t change it,” she said.

“No,” he said as though it was obvious. “I couldn’t do it without you here.”

“Well then,” Diane said. She smiled at him. “Should we do it now?”

“You do it,” Nick said.

Diane reached up, tearing off the top sheet. “It’s almost tomorrow,” she said. “Hardly worth it for just a few minutes.”

“We said we’d do it together,” Nick said.

“Yeah,” Diane said.

They didn’t speak, but she leaned towards him, and Nick’s arm came around her, and they both turned into the hug at the same time. Diane closed her eyes, the calm around her heavy and calming along with Nick’s arms. She wondered if he’d missed her while she was in bed, and the guilt came back again.

“Thank you,” she murmured, meaning the calendar but also the hug a little.

Nick nodded, shifting so his mouth was closer to her ear. “I hope you’re alright,” he said, his voice quiet. “And if you’re not, that’s alright too, but if there’s anything I can do to help, I really hope you will let me know.” He paused, his chest rising and falling twice before he continued. “As trite as it sounds, I suspect we’ll need to support each other if we’re to get through the next twelve days intact.”

“Intact?” Diane couldn’t help smiling, though her heart was heaving at his words. “That sounds alarming.”

She could feel the rush of his breath as he exhaled a laugh. “Our schedule was a good idea,” he said. “But perhaps we can allow ourselves the grace not to follow it.”

“Or all the steps,” Diane added.

“Or all the steps,” Nick agreed.

They stood, breathing together.

“Thank you,” Diane said. “For…everything today.”

“You’re welcome,” Nick replied. “I hope it helped.”

“This has,” Diane said without thinking. She took a deep breath, owning it. “I mean, it all did, but this…” She trailed off, but tightened her arms, hoping he understood.

“I know,” Nick replied. For a moment he breathed as though he was going to speak again, but then he relaxed.

“I’m ready for bed again,” Diane murmured when the hug eased apart again.

“I’ll just tidy up out here,” Nick said, “and I’ll meet you there.”

Diane smiled at him, though it faded as she readied for bed again. The day had been more draining that it should have been, given how little she had actually done. Silly as it felt, she took a few minutes to straighten the blankets on both sides of the bed before sliding between the sheets. The quiet sounds of Nick moving around the apartment were comforting, and when he settled across the bed from her, Diane met his gaze calmly until he turned out the bedside lamp.

“Good night,” Diane murmured.

She thought Nick was going to say something again.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that,” Diane said.

“I beg your pardon?” Nick asked.

“I thought you were going to say something,” Diane said. “But you didn’t.”

Nick was quiet, his features barely visible across the pillows. “I was,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t certain it was the right thing to say.”

Diane didn’t move for a moment. She could see the outline of Nick’s head, the vague shape of his nose and deeper shadows around his eyes. One hand was tucked under his pillow, the other a dark outline against the sheet between them.

Carefully, she shifted, extending her fingers to brush his, curling around them by touch in the dark. His responded in kind, knitting their hands together.

“You can say it,” she said. “I don’t…mind.”

It was several measured breaths before Nick spoke. “I was going to say the same thing both times.” Diane waited, hardly breathing until he continued slowly, “I missed you today.”

Diane felt herself blink at the words. “You did?”

His shadow tipped. _He’s nodding._ “I didn’t want you to feel badly,” he said. “If you need to do the same tomorrow. I’ll find something to do.”

Diane nodded, hoping Nick could figure it out as she had. “I don’t want you to get lonely,” she said, hoping for amusement, but it fell flat and she could hear the note of truth in her voice.

“I won’t mind,” he repeated.

“I will,” Diane replied.

Nick didn’t speak again, but his hand shifted, tangling their fingers more securely. Diane exhaled, hoping it meant what she thought it did. The day had been a roller coaster and with any luck, tomorrow would be easier.


	6. Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you've been following my tumblr you'll know I'm heading back to work in a couple of weeks (gah!). I'm aiming to get this story and my main other WIP roughly drafted as soon as possible; I don't know how much writing time or energy I'll have and you all have been so patient already as this slowest of slow burns updates so infrequently! With any luck and inspiration I'll have a flurry of mew chapters for you in the next couple of weeks.
> 
> I super appreciate all of you that are following Nick and Diane along this meandering trail of isolation and discovery. <3

Diane’s luck held, starting from the very beginning of the day. Nick had still been asleep beside her when she woke. The few moments lying beside him and watching the smoothness of his face in sleep calmed the nerves that flared when she remembered the previous day. When he stirred, she felt her lips rise in a smile.

_Today is going to be a better day._

Maybe it was what happened the previous day that helped. Their conversation at the end of the day unwrapped a layer of their relationship. He’d been the first to say it, the thing Diane hadn’t realised herself until they’d been sat there watching The Muppet Movie, of all things.

_I missed you today._

She had missed him too. She didn’t even realised it until he’d spoken the words. Her sadness from yesterday wasn’t entirely erased because of his presence, but she thought that perhaps it might be easier to face the day with him there from the start. While she was thinking, Nick stirred and his eyes opened. He blinked a few times before his gaze settled on her, and he smiled.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning,” Diane replied.

Nick shifted, looking at her with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Diane considered the question. She wanted to give him a real answer. “Like I’m glad to see you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Quickly she followed it up with, “Like I can get up,” she said.

Nick’s smile broadened. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “I’ll put the kettle on while you use the bathroom, if you like.”

Diane nodded. It was kind of odd, each of them pausing before she rolled over, self-conscious as she eased the covers back and sat up. From the movement of the mattress, Nick was doing the same. She opted for adding her dressing gown instead of getting dressed. Who knew what they would decide to do? Without their schedule the day was wide open. The idea still made her breathe carefully – so many hours to fill – but at least with Nick here, she wouldn’t have to decide on her own.

As she used the bathroom and washed her face, Diane reflected that yesterday had at least served the very practical purpose of letting Nick know how she was doing. Part of her was embarrassed, and as she looked in the mirror the shame was evident in her flushed cheeks, but mostly she was relieved. No need to pretend, or even shape too many awkward words. It had opened up a level of conversation they hadn’t shared before, and Diane had to admit to herself she was pleased they’d ended up here.

Nick made tea for them both, and Diane took a few moments to herself as they traded places and Nick used the bathroom. The flat was still this early in the morning, and on impulse, Diane opened the balcony door. Fresh air moved over her, the gentle breeze refreshing, and she took her tea out to sit in the early morning air. It was hardly a stellar view, but at least she could see the sky and breathe fresh air.

_I haven’t been outside since we got here. How strange, after so much walking in Gander._

_And the Dover Fault…_

“Good idea,” Nick murmured, stepping outside and sitting on the other chair. “Do you remember how huge the sky was in Newfoundland?”

They shared some reminiscences, the easy conversation a lovely way to begin the day, Diane decided. When their tea was finished they sat for a few more minutes, watching the sky change colour as the day began.

“Being outside is good,” Diane said. It was an understatement, but from the expression on Nick’s face he understood.

“Maybe we could come and watch the evening sky too,” Nick suggested. “If we think of it later.”

“Sure,” Diane said. “We could eat out here, if it’s not too cool.”

Nick smiled, and they both stood up, agreeing on eggs for breakfast. Nick’s soft boiled eggs were interesting, though he insisted on finding something to hold them. The shot glasses worked fairly well, though she was a little confused as to why they had to be stood up like this. “The yolks have to be just right,” Nick told her. “It’s a fine skill.”

Diane nodded distractedly, frowning at the toast he’d made, cut into long strips and generously buttered. “Why is the toast like this?”

He raised his eyebrows, a smile playing around his mouth. “Have you never seen toast like this?”

“No,” she replied.

Nick showed her how to take the top off her eggs. Still confused, she watched him. Her mouth dropped open as he picked up one of the pieces of toast and dipped it into the soft yolk of his egg before biting the end off, grinning at her.

“Oh my God,” she said, laughing at his blissful expression. “Like this?” She did the same, though her yolk rushed up and out, spilling over the edge of the shell and the eggcup.

“You have to be gentle,” he told her, “or that happens.”

She picked up another piece of toast, and his hand rested over hers, guiding it carefully to dip into the yolk without spilling it over the sides. There was a strange second layer of meaning vaguely tugging at her mind but she didn’t dwell, instead grinning as the gooey mess exploded in her mouth.

“This is amazing,” she told him. “What do you call this?”

“They’re soft boiled eggs,” Nick said. He pointed to the toast. “Eggs and soldiers, but as children we called them ‘dippy eggs’.”

“Dippy?” Diane asked, frowning. _Why would they think the eggs were dippy?_

“Yes,” Nick replied, picking up a soldier to demonstrate, “because you dip into them. Dippy eggs.”

Diane burst out laughing. It was so much removed from what she’d thought and what she’d expect from Nick. “Dippy?” she repeated. “I thought you meant…dippy.” She rolled one hand over, trying to figure out how to explain. “As in, a little vague, flighty.”

Nick shrugged, smiling. He had obviously been startled by her sudden laughter, but his face was soft again with the fondness Diane was beginning to expect when he looked at her. “I don’t think I knew it meant anything like that,” he admitted.

“Well, it does make sense,” Diane replied.

“So you never made eggs like this for David?” Nick asked.

“I have never seen eggs like this in my life,” Diane replied. “Eggs here are usually scrambled or fried.”

They ate the rest of their eggs, Nick asking about David and how things were when he was small. Diane deliberately avoided discussing her ex-husband, and Nick didn’t ask, for which she was grateful. She ignored the small voice that told her she could tell Nick. _Not quite yet._

“We should change the calendar,” Diane said as they took their dishes to the sink.

“Of course,” Nick replied. He tore the sheet off and they both looked at the large ‘4’ for a moment. “So, what do you want to do first?”

Diane shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied. She glanced down. “I should get dressed.”

“We both should,” Nick replied with an easy smile.

Half an hour later Diane was writing in her journal. She’d picked it up after getting dressed; while Nick used the bedroom and bathroom, she flicked through, realising where it left off. The Screech In. She remembered not wanting to address it last time she was writing, but today there was a cautious strength in her. Enough to start writing again. When Nick came out she finished and closed the book, smiling as he stood by the table.

“Since we don’t have anything planned, I had an idea,” Nick said.

“Okay,” Diane said. Why was she nervous about this?

“I noticed you have a lot of baking books,” Nick said. “We could find some ridiculously complicated recipe and give it a try.”

“Baking?” Diane said, relaxing. “I don’t think I have a lot of baking supplies.”

Nick shrugged. “We can leave a list for Emma with the CDs. But we can look for something today. It could be fun to take our time.”

“Okay,” Diane replied. That did sound fun. She pulled down her baking books and they sat at the table together.

“Did you used to bake a lot?” Nick asked. “You have so many books.”

“I did,” Diane replied. “When,” she glanced at Nick, but he was already looking through the book he’d opened, “when I was first…not living with anyone. David was at school during the day, and he spent time with his father, so I needed something to do.”

Nick nodded. “Was there something you used to make?” he asked.

An old memory came to her, and she smiled. “Cinnamon rolls,” Diane replied. “I used to love making cinnamon rolls.”

“From scratch?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” she replied. She waved at the book he was looking at. “May I?”

She flicked through, finding the page. The image was familiar and it rushed through her. It had been a complicated time, but she remembered…

“I used to time it so they were ready when David came home,” she said, running her fingers over the illustration. “He loved them, and we’d sit and eat and tell each other about what we’d done while he was away.” She smiled, losing herself in the memory a little. “It’s a complicated memory. Happy and sad. If that makes sense.”

Nick nodded. “It does,” he said. “Maybe we could make them together,” he added tentatively. “If you’d like to shift the balance of memories.”

The idea settled in Diane’s mind, and she felt the smile blossoming on her face. “Thank you,” she said without looking at Nick. The emotion was rising in her throat and she pushed her words past it. “That would be great.”

They read the recipe together, Diane making a list of ingredients. “We should make half a batch,” she told him. “Otherwise we’ll be rolling out of here at the end.”

“I’ll trust your judgement,” Nick told her. “Why don’t we look through these and see if there’s anything else we might like?”

To Diane’s surprise, the meandering trip through her baking books took them almost up to lunchtime. Some recipes Nick had never heard of; others prompted memories of his life and childhood. When they finally called it an end, she set the list outside with the CDs and bills for Emma to collect, taking a second in the entrance to smooth the emotions stirred up by their time dipping into her past.

She and Nick made a platter of fruits and vegetables, continuing their conversation about cooking as they prepared grilled cheese sandwiches and ate the simple lunch. When she spotted the list of meals Emily sent over, Diane plucked it from the fridge and they decided to make the chili she’d suggested. It felt so domestic. Another contrast rose in her head, her ex-husband and Nick like chalk and cheese.

_Not yet._

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Nick murmured when they’d cleaned up from their lunch.

“You do know how English it is that you do that all the time, don’t you?” Diane asked, pulling her mind back. “I’ve never drank so much tea in my life.”

“What can I say, I epitomise the stereotype,” Nick replied as he set up their mugs.

“You really don’t, actually,” Diane replied. Her mood had eased as they’d eaten, and the brief remembrance of her ex-husband hadn’t stuck. Nick eased him away until he disappeared. She was in a very good mood, she realised; being with Nick without a strict timetable was exactly what she needed today.

_He’s good for me._

“I don’t?” Nick replied mildly. “Don’t tell me all my time in America is rubbing off?”

“No,” Diane replied, “that’s not what I meant.” She could see Nick’s interest, and took a second to try and figure out how to phrase it. “Well, I guess the stereotypical Englishman is all, stiff upper lip, right?” Nick nodded. “And not showing emotion, just getting on with things.”

“Yes,” Nick replied.

“Well, you’re not like that,” Diane replied. “Far more…accessible.”

“Accessible?” Nick repeated, carrying their mugs into the living room. Diane followed and they settled on the couch without discussion. “Thank you?”

Diane grinned. This was more difficult than she’d expected. “I mean, the stereotype is a man who makes no acknowledgement of his emotions, doesn’t pay attention or validate them in others…you’re not like that. At all.” She drew a deep breath. “Yesterday, for example.”

Nick’s cheeks grew pink and he shrugged.

“Thank you,” Diane said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied eventually.

They sat with their tea for a while, Diane feeling her muscles relax. When her tea was finished, she decided she could just…do something. Without speaking, she collected her journal and a pen, unable to stop herself from glancing at Nick as she passed. His smile was genuine, and as she settled, he stepped over to the bookcase and picked up a book, returning to the couch. Once he settled, Diane found herself immersing herself in recalling the Screech In. Even the parts she wasn’t ready to really analyse yet; just writing them out truthfully was cathartic. She could figure out what it all meant later.

When she was done – past the Screech In, all the way to the flight back to Dallas – Diane sighed and closed her journal, tucking it under the couch. She closed her eyes for a moment, pleased with her work. A few deep breaths energised her and when she opened her eyes, Nick was watching her, one finger holding his place in the book.

“What?”

Nick didn’t reply right away, and Diane wondered what he was thinking to ask. “Your sister asked me if we’d used the modelling clay,” he said finally.

“And what did you tell her?” Diane asked with a grin.

“I said of course, it was so thoughtful,” Nick replied. His smile was warm and Diane felt her own widen in response. It was definitely a moment, and she held back the urge to say something. Instead she just enjoyed it, studying Nick’s face, realising he was doing the same thing. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. The trust growing between them held up a vulnerability that might otherwise have been too heavy. Yesterday had been a turning point for the slow growth to explode exponentially, and Diane was ready to embrace it. Still apprehensive, but no longer frightened.

It was a big change.

“She’ll know if you’ve lied to her,” Diane said conversationally, continuing their conversation. “It’s a knack.”

“Well shall we, then?” Nick asked. “Just so she doesn’t prove me a liar.”

“Sure,” Diane replied.

They sat at the table, Nick dropping their mugs at the sinks before joining Diane.

“What should we make?” Diane asked, handing him a blob of modelling clay.

“Hmmm,” Nick replied, kneading at his clay. “How about we each make something and see if the other can figure out what it is.”

“You’re as bad at this as I am, then?” Diane asked.

“I have no way of knowing how bad you may or may not be,” Nick replied. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “But I know how bad I am.”

She grinned. Perhaps it was the moments they’d spent on the couch, allowing the atmosphere to draw them together, but she could still feel it between them. Was this what it would be like from now on? The idea was remarkably appealing. “Okay then.”

Nick glanced at his watch. “Ten minute limit?”

“Agreed,” Diane replied.

They worked in silence for ten minutes, and when Nick’s watch beeped, Diane groaned.

“This is terrible,” she told him.

“No, it’s clearly a…beagle,” he said confidently.

“It’s a moose,” Diane told him, holding up the antlers where they’d drooped.

“Oh, yes,” Nick replied, his mouth twitching. “It’s hard to get the antlers to stay up.”

“Well I can see you’ve made…a submarine?” Diane hazarded. She couldn’t help breaking into laughter at his semi-offended expression, relieved that he’d relaxed to join her and smile at their silliness.

“It’s a fish,” Nick said, poking at the dorsal fin. “A cod, specifically.”

“Of course it is,” Diane gasped, a fresh peal of laughter emerging when Nick tried to look offended but failed. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “We’re quite…evenly matched, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Nick sighed. He waited patiently until she was done, then asked, “Again?”

They played several rounds, the laughter mutual as each demonstrated less and less sculpting ability. Nick’s expression was the same fondness to which she was becoming accustomed, though there was an edge of surprise now. His eyes lingered on her a fraction longer than they might have, and he wondered if he could see the change she could feel.

“Well, at least we don’t have to lie to your sister now,” Nick said as they packed the modelling clay away.

“You already did,” Diane replied. “We just made it…not a lie anymore.”

“True,” Nick allowed. He looked at his watch, then outside. “If we start on that chili now, it should be ready for us to eat outside before it gets dark.”

They worked together, Nick pouring large glasses of water and taking condiments outside while Diane served.

“So overall,” Nick asked as they sat together, “would you say today was more satisfactory than yesterday?”

“Satisfactory?” Diane repeated. She wanted to give Nick an exasperated look, but was fairly sure it came out more amused. “Well yes, I suppose it was.”

Nick grinned at her. “Probably the modelling clay,” he said nonchalantly.

“Oh definitely,” Diane replied, spooning up some of the chili. The air was cooler on her skin, but it was lovely to connect with the outside again. She breathed it in, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt the cool air in her lungs and on her face.

When she opened her eyes again, Nick was looking at her.

“What?” she asked, wondering if she’d spilled chili on herself or something.

For a long moment, Nick looked as though he was going to say something. Diane could feel it drawing them in, and it was up to Nick to take it up…

“Nothing,” he said eventually.

The atmosphere relaxed around them again. Diane was disappointed, but she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t saying those big things either, and whatever Nick was not saying, it was obviously big.

_But not I miss you. Something else._

“This reminds me of the last night before school went back,” Diane said. “When I was a child. My parents would want me to go to bed on time, but I wanted to stay up because I knew the summer was almost over.”

Nick smiled. “Did you ever stay up all night?” he asked.

“Not until I was a lot older than that,” Diane said with a smile. “When David was small he did not sleep well. There were a lot of sleepless nights.” She smiled at the memory. He’d been so small…

“That doesn’t seem like it would be a good memory,” Nick ventured.

“Well, not the sleeplessness,” Diane admitted. She smiled at his confusion. “When you don’t sleep well at night, the naps are incredible.”

Nick laughed.

“We’d make forts with blankets and the couch cushions,” Diane said. “Pack our lunches and take our naps in there. Sometimes for hours.”

“Sounds like fun,” Nick said.

“It was coping,” Diane said. Was now the time to go into everything? She hesitated, but her courage failed her. _Don’t trash this atmosphere._ “To answer your question, I was never really one to stay up all night just for the sake of it.” She glanced at Nick. “How about you?”

“Once or twice,” Nick replied. “Though I am more likely to be up early to watch the sunrise than to stay up all night.”

Diane nodded. The conversation petered out and they stayed outside as the sky gently eased itself into night. There were a lot of clouds, too many to see the stars, and Diane wondered if it was going to rain.

It took a moment before she realised what was creeping in around the edges of her mood. Melancholy, dark and soft as the velvet sky hidden by clouds.

_Darn it._

“I should call David,” Diane said. “See how he’s going.”

“Sure,” Nick replied. “I might have a shower while you do that.” His voice was matter-of-fact but there was a question in his eyes.

“Of course,” Diane replied, ignoring the twinge of guilt plucking at her heart.

David wanted to chat but Diane kept the call short. David did pass on a message from Emily – she promised to drop off their groceries early the next day, and when Diane had hung up, she sighed. Talking with David had been lovely, but somehow it deflated her mood further, feeding the melancholy she was trying to banish.

_It’s too late today to talk about anything too heavy._

She was still staring into space when Nick appeared. She didn’t say anything, just meeting his eyes quietly.

“Perhaps we could run a load of washing tomorrow,” he said before registering something that made him stop. “Laundry,” he amended.

Diane nodded, smiling a little at how he edited himself from English to American. She wanted to say something, but right now nothing seemed quite right. She couldn’t explain it, but as Nick stood, his eyes holding hers, Diane fancied he could tell.

Nick didn’t say anything else, but he moved over to stand close and opened his arms to her. Diane shifted forward without thinking, their hug as natural as breathing. That was easy too; she could feel their breathing moving their bodies together without a single word. They fit together easily now.

Somehow, they’d ended up here. In a relationship far more intimate than she’d imagine was possible. Especially after her ex-husband, and especially with someone she’d known for such a short period of time. It wasn’t platonic anymore, yet anything more than that was unacknowledged. The pain of that was more intense than she expected.

She couldn’t ruin it by asking for more, even as the desire to be closer rolled through her. Instead she tightened her embrace and was heartened to feel Nick’s doing the same. It felt like they stood there for a long time, until Nick finally shifted. Diane was sure she felt a kiss brush against her hair, but didn’t mention it. Friends could kiss each other like that, she told herself. It wasn’t worth making things awkward to ask about it. Besides she wasn’t sure she was ready for what might come after.

_He needs to hear about before. But not right now._

She wanted to thank him but it felt like too much she Diane settled for a smile when they eased back from each other. Without speaking she fetched her pyjamas and closed the bathroom door behind her. She moved on autopilot as she showered, brushed teeth and finished the rest of her ablutions before meeting Nick in bed.

They didn’t speak once again, but Diane felt their fingers brush in the middle of the bed. She didn’t know who made the first definitive move, but they ended up holding hands before she drifted off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the eggs were a real point of discussion in my online communities as it turns out.  
> Growing up in Australia, dippy eggs/eggs and soldiers were a Thing. Served mainly to small children, people have egg cups specifically to hold eggs upright to eat this way (shot glasses do suffice in a pinch). Everyone does them, everyone knows what you mean when you say it. From what I can gather, Nick would also be familiar with the idea. The feedback from American mutuals seems to be mixed - some are completely flabbergasted at the idea, others wonder what's with the toast (they dip with the triangle corners into fried eggs with soft yolks), some are totally familiar with it. So it's plausible that Diane would never have come across the idea, and I frankly think that little scene is bloody cute. <3 I love a little cultural exploration!


	7. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: gaslighting/psychological abuse *Diane tells Nick about her ex-husband*
> 
> Real life has been...Well. We're in stage 4 lockdown, I've started working after a long time as a SAHM, and the Smurfs are learning from home. So you can imagine all the creative energy I have. I decided to pick one long story to work on, and now that it's done, this will be my focus. Stage 4 lockdown is set to continue for another three weeks, so with any luck I might get out sometime around the same time as Nick and Diane. 
> 
> Thank you as always for your patience. I hope you and yours are safe and as well as possible.  
> <3 Blue

It wasn’t Diane’s bladder that woke her, but it did stop her going back to sleep. A noise, maybe? Either way there was no way she could avoid getting up. Grumbling to herself, Diane glanced at the far side of the bed, not wanting to wake Nick.

Even in the half light from the hall, she could see he was gone. That was strange. Her brain wasn’t awake enough to process it, so she went to the bathroom instead. When she returned, Nick was still gone, and now a frown pulled at her brow. Why would he be up in the middle of the night? A quick squint at the clock told her it was somewhere between very late and very early – the kind of hour in which nobody should be up. And certainly not alone.

Carefully she wrapped her dressing gown around her. There weren’t all that many places he could be; with the bedroom and bathroom both crossed off the list she was guessing he was in the living room. There was a light on, the corner lamp; he was sitting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and Diane couldn’t remember seeing such a forlorn sight. Hunched shoulders, and when he turned his head to meet her eyes Diane was taken aback by how quietly sad they appeared. She didn’t know what to say, so she stood for a while, the sadness swirling into something more complicated.

Wondering what to do, the answer came to her fully formed. The kettle was still warm, but not hot; she clicked it on and set up their mugs. It took only a moment before she was carrying everything in to sit beside Nick. Two mugs, then another trip for milk, a saucer and the Jaffa cakes. He accepted his mug, watching as she doctored it the way he liked it. The Jaffa cakes brought a small smile to his face, and Diane felt her worries ease a bit. Whatever was wrong, whatever had woken him in the idle of the night so he would rather sit out here, a cup of tea was the right thing for her to do.

Settling beside him, Diane cupped her own tea. The ceramic was warm against her skin and she drew it in. The contrast with the air made her realise it was cold, and she shivered. Nick didn’t look but he unfolded the blanket – it was huge – and offered her some. Carefully she slid under, the warm air enveloping her. They were sitting very close now, the blanket drawing them gently together. Diane could feel her body pressed against Nick, their elbows bumping gentle as they both cupped their tea.

It was nice.

Quiet, which was a bit silly given it was always quiet in here. It reminded her of the late nights in Newfoundland, though there was the eternal susurrus of people and movement there.

“Can I do anything?” Diane’s words were quiet, not needing much to break their silence. She had no idea what was the matter but if there was something more than company and tea, she wanted to know. Nick had been so wonderful since they arrived, but the day she’d spent in bed in particular, and she wanted to show him the same empathy he’d extended.

As she watched him consider the question, Diane realised she was holding her breath. It was a strange moment, strung between two possibilities, and there was a sense of relief when he shook his head. It felt like it was linked to the unsaid words that haunted them; a moment offered but not accepted.

The timing. The timing had to be right or it would fall apart.

Diane nodded her head, accepting his answer. She sipped at her tea; it was at the right drinking temperature now, and while she was content to sit here with him, she suddenly realised he might actually just want to be on his own for a bit.

“Should I go?”

He shook his head, more immediately now, and she was sure he pressed against her just a little. Well that was definite, she thought. If he just wants me near. As she sipped, Diane felt the atmosphere around them loosen. Their bodies were the same temperature now, and she could hardly tell where she ended and Nick began, so closely were they pressed together.

“Do you remember the tea in Gander?”

Nick didn’t answer, so Diane continued with the reminiscence. “There was that woman insisting there was something wrong with her cup. She couldn’t understand why nobody would bring her a cup and saucer. Kept insisting no civilised person would drink proper tea out of a mug.” She smiled at the memory. “It was the last night. I wonder what she had been doing every other night? Maybe she hadn’t decided she wanted tea until then.”

She felt Nick huff an amused breath, but he didn’t speak. She drew a deep breath and continued talking, a quiet stream of remembrances. Some they’d already talked about, and she was conscious not to repeat herself too much. It was soothing almost, the reminder she and Nick had this one thing in common, something nobody else could truly share in.

“The sandwiches, remember? We watched those people making mountains and mountains of them, so much bread…and then someone came in with all that gluten free bread and set up a completely separate space. I couldn’t believe they were going to so much trouble to help people they didn’t even know. And we had no idea how many people were actually at the Academy, but with so much food being prepared it made it more real. Even though we’d seen the planes.” Diane shook her head, remembering how it had dawned on them there were a lot more people here than they’d first understood. “It was all gone the next day, remember? And the man serving was smiling even though he’d been up all night making food.” She smiled. “Do you remember what he said? ‘I don’t even like peanut butter!’” She shook her head. “He must have used a dozen jars of the stuff and didn’t even complain.”

Nick wasn’t replying, but Diane figured he was listening, so she gabbled on for a while more, until her tea was done. She peered into Nick’s mug, and seeing it empty placed them both on the floor. Her hand was still warm, the palm at least; she could feel the temperature difference where her skin had not been touching the hot ceramic. Folding her hands under the blanket, she burrowed into the warmth.

For the first time since he’d thrown the blanket over them both, Nick shifted. Diane felt him draw his side of the blanket closer, and to her surprise his hand found hers under the fabric. He laced their fingers together but didn’t speak, not meeting her eyes as his thumb stroked slowly across her wrist. It was lovely. The early hour and warmth conspired against her, and Diane felt her eyes growing heavy. She couldn’t discount having Nick so close was comforting. In her tired state it was easier to accept the effect he was having. His touch only exacerbated it, and the fact he’d initiated it…well that brought up a whole other well of emotion.

The line she’d been telling herself about how he wouldn’t be interested was becoming weaker by the moment. The frustrating thing was she didn’t have any way to tell how he was with other people. Was he really the opposite of the epitomical Englishman? Was he like this with everyone? Or…the ‘or’ made her heart thud hard, but she swallowed and forced herself to finish the sentence.

Or was he just like this for her?

It was moot of course right now, when it was just the two of them with so many more days together.

She should just enjoy this. Enjoy whatever this was right now. They could address the logistics of the outside when their time together was up.

The thoughts swirled at the same rate as her heartbeat. As with her breathing, a slower tempo of the same. And all this guided by the trail of Nick’s thumb across her skin. She wondered if his body was regulating the same.

As she drifted, holding onto the thoughts, Diane felt her body relax. She was resting more against Nick, and she thought he was doing the same; the return pressure was enough to stop them falling. Nick was warm. He was comfortable. She was too tired to protest when he eased his hand away from hers, and the shape of his torso changed. It was moving slowly, but she still slipped sideways as his arm came carefully around her shoulder.

She felt a contented sigh escape as they settled back again. She was leaning closer now, and were they lying down more? His ribs were below her ear now and she could feel his heart beating. It was slower than she expected, though when her arm shifted, tightening around his waist, it jumped a little. The arm at her shoulder adjusted the blanket so it fell across her body bringing the warmth around her like another embrace.

How nice, Diane thought as she drifted away.

+++

Something was moving under her. It was uncomfortable, and Diane frowned, wishing it would stop. She wiggled, hoping she’d find a more comfortable position, but the moving thing was not staying still. In fact it was moving further away.

“Wha…”

“Diane.”

Her name came from close, right beside her ear. She could feel it more than hear it; the air whispering across her skin, raising the hairs on her arms. The tone was amused, but gentle. It took a second to register, and in that second she reacted instinctively.

Arms cuddled the warm heaviness underneath her.

Her face pressed into the fabric. It smelled good, so she breathed deeply, exhaling on a sigh.

After all this, a name rose in her mind. A name that went with the voice.

“Nick.”

“Yes,” he replied.

Which is when she realised she had spoken his name aloud. She knew her muscles had frozen for a second, but when she gained control again Diane shifted, knowing the flaming heat in her face was not because her body and Nick’s had been enveloped in a blanket together for…hours?

As she blinked against the natural light Diane confirmed it in her mind. Hours, they’d been asleep for hours.

“Sorry,” she managed, struggling to sit up without hurting Nick. Her head was still half asleep, but she was aware enough to know this was a big step forward in the kind of intimacy they’d shared, and things could go either way. Her own embarrassment was flooding her and it was almost more than she could manage to sit up and not flee. It would depend on how Nick responded. Things had the potential to be incredibly awkward.

“Are you alright?” Nick asked.

“I should be asking you that,” Diane replied. They’d finally managed to sit themselves up, though the blanket still sat across both of their shoulders. They sat a little apart, the blanket stretching across the short space between them. Nick looked at her, and to her astonishment he looked amused, though he wasn’t quite smiling.

“I’m fine,” he said, and the lie was clear enough Diane could offer him a look of wry disbelief.

“Okay,” she replied. She turned her neck. “That was probably a bad idea, sleeping like that.”

“Not great for my neck,” Nick agreed. “Thank you for joining me last night.”

Diane shrugged. “I thought you might like the company,” she said. She wanted to say more – that she didn’t want him to be lonely, or that maybe she thought she might offer him the same comfort he had given her – but her courage failed her.

“Breakfast?” Nick ventured.

“Sure,” Diane replied. She stood up, stretching, conscious of Nick doing the same beside her. Weariness still tugged at her limbs, and she was sure she’d sleep well that night. There was a whole day to get through, yet. She headed for the kitchen, taking their mugs to the sink before filling the kettle once again.

“I’ll sleep well tonight,” Nick said, joining Diane in the kitchen. “What shall we make for breakfast?”

The morning passed quietly, neither having much energy for small talk. Diane smiled when Nick tore down the page from their calendar. The days were passing slowly. She refused to allow herself to consider the future too closely. She and Nick had to get through today before she could consider tomorrow.

“Do you have laundry?” she asked when they’d finished their breakfast. “I’ll put the machine on.”

“Yes,” Nick replied. “Thank you.”

She tried not to think about their clothes mixing so closely. It made sense to run a single load; given that they were sharing a bed, there was no point being shy about such things. When she returned from setting the washing machine, Nick was sitting on the couch, reading the same book he’d started the previous day. He’d folded the blanket and it again hung over the back of the couch as though they had never slept there that morning.

Glancing into the kitchen, Diane wondered if she should cook something. The thought led her to a conversation from the previous day, and she remembered.

_Cinnamon rolls._

Turning to the door, Diane opened it, unsure if her sister would have had time to shop and return. She was happy to find a pair of grocery bags and an envelope taped to the front, where she would be sure to see it. Her name was on the front, as if Nick would open it by accident. Carefully, it took her two trips to bring them into the kitchen, and by the time she returned the second time Nick had noticed and discarded his book.

“Your sister?”

“My sister,” Diane replied. She pulled the envelope from the bag. “She must have gone right out last night. Or first thing this morning.”

They opened the bags to find the ingredients Diane had written on her list. There were ice bricks in one bag, and she put them to one side, making sure the cold items made it into the fridge. Emily had done a great job; there was everything they needed, plus some staples to replace what they would have eaten.

“She’s definitely an older sister,” Nick said with a grin, holding up more Jaffa cakes along with the tea and bread. “Can’t help helping.”

“Exactly,” Diane replied. She left Nick to make tea, turning to the window to open her sister’s envelope. When she saw the card inside – a pair of teddies hugging on the front surrounded by hearts – Diane was relieved she’d turned away.

_‘Hello sister! I hope this finds you well. This is everything you need to make cinnamon rolls. I know that recipe as well as you, and I hope it makes some happier memories. If you haven’t told Nick about the cinnamon rolls, you should. He won’t understand unless you explain, little sis!_

_David sends his love. Let me know if you need anything else._

_Love, Em xx’_

Diane read the card twice, rolling her eyes even as her cheeks heated. Her sister was irritatingly controlling and perceptive as usual. Thank goodness she’d taken the care to write Diane’s name on the envelope. Diane’s already warm cheeks grew hot as she contemplated the thought of Nick reading this. Not that he’d understand some of it – but there would be questions.

_It would be the right time to tell him about what happened._

The thought was true enough, but it pulled the smile from her face as she considered it. Opening up to people wasn’t part of her nature. She talked a lot, but it wasn’t the real conversation of truth; she was self-aware enough to know it was more of a defence mechanism than anything else. Nick would certainly understand, that much was sure. But how would it change how he saw her?

“Did you want to start them now?”

Nick’s voice was close behind her, and Diane started, folding the card closed instinctively as she did so. He was looking at her calmly, patiently. His face was so familiar now, even as she studied it she could see the fatigue. Why had he risen in the middle of the night? What had kept him awake?

She was hardly in a position to be upset that he kept some things to himself.

“Sure,” she said. “It will take a while.”

She was strangely nervous as they set out the ingredients. It had felt almost fun yesterday, reliving some old memories. Now the reality of it stormed it, bringing a host of emotions she had forgotten. Nick must have sensed her mood, because he didn’t make small talk; their words were restricted to the recipe and ingredients. Diane could see Nick was not familiar with baking. She had to guide his hand as they measured and mixed. Mixing the ingredients was well enough; she had baked enough cakes and pies in her life.

Adding the yeast mixture was a different story.

The characteristic smell was deep and heady. One breath sent her back and her hands stilled. Half wet and half dry, the lukewarm milk barely covered her knuckles. Flour dusted the sides of the bowl and she knew she should be mixed it through but every breath set her more deeply back.

_I’m back there…_

_No._

“Nick,” she said, pulling her hands from the mix. The bench was hard beneath her sticky fingers, but she pressed against it. “The smell,” she whispered. “It takes me back.”

“You used to make these for David,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “And no.”

The tears were streaming, though she made no move to stop them. The humiliation was nothing to the pain she felt. Was reliving, really; it was still sharp through the years, all the more for its unexpectedness. With a deep breath, Diane pulled herself together. She plunged her hands back into the dough, concentrating hard on mixing it evenly.

“I did make them for David,” she said, watching her hands and definitely not Nick. “They were his favourite, and I wanted to create new memories for them.” Nick didn’t speak, and Diane knew she could stop here or keep going. Tempting though it was to change the subject, she drew a deep breath.

“I used to make them for my ex-husband,” she said. “The first time I made them, he liked the recipe. Well, mostly. So I made them again to try and get them right. He never did end up liking them. But I was determined to get them right.”

The dough had come together so she floured the bench. Before she could start kneading it she glanced up at Nick. He was leaning against the bench, arms crossed. She hadn’t really paid attention to what he was wearing, but the blue of sweater was exactly the same colour as his eyes.

“Why?” Nick asked quietly.

“Why what?” Diane asked.

“Why were you so determined to get it right?”

Diane blinked at him, then turned her attention back to the dough. She started kneading it, remembering the ache in her arms as she worked. Nick was still waiting for her to speak, but it took a few minutes to find the right words.

“Nobody’s perfect,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “But he was good at making himself seem…nicer than he actually was. For a while.”

“You’ve mentioned him before,” Nick said, his voice careful. “He sounds…it sounds like a difficult relationship.”

“Yes,” Diane said. “He had opinions about things. Things I didn’t realise were important until we were married.”

“Like drinking,” Nick said quietly.

“Yes.”

“And might I guess lying in bed all day?” Nick asked.

“He was disapproving,” Diane said quietly.

“You said he wasn’t great,” Nick said. “It’s not my place to say but he sounds a lot worse than not great.”

She didn’t speak, her hands still working the sweet dough.

“And you learned to be different,” Nick said quietly.

“Yes,” Diane whispered.

It was quiet as she finished the dough. A clean bowl, a cloth to cover it, a warm spot by the oven. It came automatically, but as she washed her hands Diane could feel she’d pulled in on herself. It was the same as before, the tension in her shoulders. The clumsiness that made her more careful, frightened of the outcome should she make a mistake.

As he dried her clean hands, Diane took a deep breath. She wanted to say the next part, but meeting Nick’s eyes would make it impossible.

“When my husband…left,” she said, “and David wanted me to keep making the cinnamon rolls, new memories came with it.” She smiled, realising the tears were back. “So, it’s complicated.”

Nick nodded. She could see him thinking.

“Complicated,” Nick repeated.

Diane nodded.

“And you said I was different,” Nick said quietly.

“You are,” Diane replied. Another smile. “You hug me,” she said, feeling smaller than she had in a long time. “And you said you missed me.” It was such a silly statement and she wished she could take it back, but she could not.

Nick nodded. He uncrossed his arms, leaning back on his hands as he considered her. “That seems like a very low bar,” he said.

“It is,” Diane whispered, and it was enough to make her cry. Not just the tears but more. Nick opened his arms and she stepped into them, pressing her face into the blue of his sweater. This time the familiarity was as moving as the memories about the cinnamon rolls and when Nick kissed the top of her head, there was no mistake.

“I should get the laundry,” Diane said finally.

Nick nodded. “I’ll help you,” he said.

She was astonished that he wound their fingers together. Just for the short walk to the laundry? Diane was still marvelling at it when they arrived. She pulled out the basket, not thinking about what she was doing until the first handful of wet laundry included both a shirt – Nick’s – and a pair of her own underpants. She froze, looking at Nick.

“Oh dear,” he said eventually, and it was so English and understated she couldn’t help bursting into giggles.

“You take your shirts,” she told him. “I’ll…did you put anything else in?”

He nodded, a pained expression on his face. “Right,” Diane said, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll put a load in dryer, will I?”

Nick nodded again, avoiding her eyes. He took the shirts Diane offered, and she allowed him the small privacy to take his embarrassment to the other room. Once the dryer was on she ducked her head into the bedroom. Nick had his back to her, hanging his wet shirt on a coat hanger. His fingers were careful as they smoothed the fabric out, and she leaned against the doorframe, watching him. He felt safe. Having him here was safe.

And all her worries about telling him about her ex-husband were unfounded. How could she have thought differently? Having been honest about that made it easier to be honest about other things. As she stood there, he turned, catching her in his eye as he reached for another shirt.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said apropos of nothing.

He blinked and adjusted his glasses. “Thank you,” he replied.

She smiled. “Thank you for listening to me.”

He tilted his head, smiling in understanding. “You’re welcome.”

She had the distinct impression it wasn’t something people were usually thanked for. But it wasn’t something she was used to. In silence she watched him hang the last two shirts.

“Look what I found,” Nick said. He picked up the camera. “In the bottom of my suitcase.”

“Oh,” Diane breathed. “Do you remember what’s on it?”

“Mostly pictures of Gander, if I recall,” Nick replied.

“We could leave it for Emily to get developed,” Diane said.

Nick looked at her for a long while. “Certainly,” he said at last. “Though we should perhaps wait until tomorrow before we ask her to do something else for us.”

“True,” Diane replied. They looked at each other for a long moment. “I was thinking of getting that yoga video out. Stretch out my sore back. What do you think?”

“If you’re asking do I want to watch and maybe laugh a bit,” Nick said, with a grin, “Sure.”

“No,” Diane said, ignoring the fizz in her stomach, “I meant, ‘do you want to try it with me?’”

“Oh,” Nick replied. “Well, okay.”

Diane looked at the clock. “We should probably do the next part of the recipe first,” she said. “Then we can let it rest while we…”

“Yoga?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” Diane replied.

“Okay,” Nick said with a grin. “Cinnamon rolls and yoga it is.”


	8. Day 12

How was it day twelve already? Diane blinked, eyes sandy against the early morning light. She hadn’t drifted off until late, and as soon as the light peeked through the blinds, her brain wouldn’t shut down again. Easing out of bed was simple enough; Nick stirred but did not wake, and Diane decided to make a cup of tea. It was strange to think about what would happen three days from now. It was so close. She would be allowed to go for a walk. To do groceries. To see her son.

This last brought tears to her eyes. The week in Gander without David was one thing, but this two weeks had been much more difficult, even though she’d known how long it would be. Emma’s last card said she’d call tonight to make plans to meet on day fifteen. Diane knew her sister would be dying to meet Nick, but it still felt strange to share him. After almost three weeks of his almost constant company she still wasn’t feeling confined by his presence, and he’d made no indication he was of hers, though he would be far too polite even if she was wearing on him.

That day would come, though, and there was hardly an excuse not to see her family.

David would be wonderful. Emma, more of a challenge. Even if Nick drove straight to the airport, Diane would be heartbroken. Even if they shared no more than another hug before that time. And she wouldn’t be able to hide it from Emma, who would press and press for details.

With a groan, Diane pressed the heel of her hands into her eyes. Emma would want answers and despite the hours of thinking about it, Diane had none. She could picture the conversation in her mind already, clear as though it had already happened.

“So tell me everything!” Emma would say.

“Like what?” Diane would reply. She would shift, uncomfortable, knowing there was no way out of it.

“Every. Thing.” Emma replied in turn, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t tell me you and Nick spent two whole weeks in that tiny apartment and nothing happened.”

Diane sighed. “Nothing happened,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t convince her sister.

“Nothing,” Emma repeated, with the same disbelieving tone Diane had heard in every conversation about Nick since she’d gotten back. “Not a single kiss? No,” she waved her hand, “neck rubs that turned into something more? A bit too much to drink-”

“No!” Diane said sharply. “Good grief, Emma.”

“Sorry,” Emma said, contrite for a moment. “But seriously, Diane, how could you do it?”

Diane looked at her sister. “It’s complicated,” she said.

“But you let him get back on a plane to go all the way to England?”

“That’s where he lives,” Diane protested.

“So that cute accent did nothing for you?” Emma asked.

Diane didn’t bother answering that.

“And when he hugged you, those kisses on the top of your head, they didn’t mean anything?” Emma asked.

_Darn it._

Diane shook her head, clearing the scene from her brain. Emma would never ask that. How would she know? That was what came from Diane trying to write both sides of a conversation in her head.

It was a fair question, though.

Diane gathered her mug close, using the silence to help her consider the question. In the safety of her head, she could admit the kisses meant something. They’d grown in confidence, but she still wasn’t sure how Nick might react if she shifted in his arms, turned her face up to meet his lips with hers.

_Darn. It._

Diane shifted again, not quite able to get comfortable, either physically or emotionally. Nick would be up soon, and she didn’t want to have these ideas in her head when he awoke. It was too close to the surface now, more difficult to hide the longer it went on. She’d told herself the timing wasn’t just right each time, and now Nick was almost as skittish as she. They still did things together, and Nick still hugged her, but they rarely met each other’s eyes for long, the truth burning in their gaze. Twelve days of just the two of them, of this atmosphere coalescing more and more tightly around them until today, she couldn’t seem to break free from it.

_Timing_.

They still had three days together. Diane couldn’t even think about what they might do. The lists they’d made, the ideas Emma had provided – Diane and Nick had finished most, leaving only those that had appealed to neither on the list. There was enough food, and though Emma had offered to go to the grocery store again, Diane turned it down. She’d want to go on her own in a few days. More than that, she’d want to _need_ to go. However Nick’s absence would affect her, she would need something to do, and groceries would be as good a distraction as anything.

Diane lifted her mug again, disappointed to find it empty. She considered making another cup, but the idea wasn’t as appealing as it could be. The light outside had shifted from early morning into full daylight, the noise from outside matching the progression of time. She stood, stretching, wondering if going back to sleep was a viable option. There was little else to do, and if she downed one of the tablets her doctor had prescribed before her trip, the day would pass in a sea of blackness.

_Bad idea._

Diane screwed her nose at the honest truth provided by her brain. She’d only be exchanging daylight hours for moonlight ones. At a loss for what else to do, she walked towards the sink, intending to wash the few dishes there.

“Good morning,” Nick said from the doorway, startling Diane enough she dropped her mug. It shattered, and she froze, aware of her bare feet and the likelihood shards of china were on the floor.

“Don’t move,” Nick said.

“I’m not,” Diane replied, feeling foolish standing so still in the middle of the floor, arms outstretched like a small child learning to balance.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said. Diane watched him glance at her, and then to the floor. “I’ll fetch some shoes, just a moment.”

Diane waited while he disappeared back into the bedroom, trying to control her overreaction to the whole scene. When he reappeared, Diane was trying to decide if she could take a big enough step over the broken china. She couldn’t be sure, instead turning her eyes up to Nick’s.

“Just a moment,” he said, bending down.

“Don’t pick up the pieces,” Diane objected. “Use the brush!”

Nick acquiesced, finding the brush from under the sink and sweeping as much as possible into the pan. Diane stood still, awkward as she neither helped nor moved until Nick stood, eyes raking the floor again before he looked up.

“I think it’s done,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Do you want to step over?”

Diane nodded, trying to decide which direction. Nick offered her his hand and she took it, gripping hard as she stepped carefully over the space he’d just created. “Thank you,” she murmured. They both held on for another few seconds before Diane slid her hand out, examining the floor with more attention than it really deserved. The ghost of his finger still gripped hers.

“I’m sorry,” Nick repeated. “I’d offer to replace it but I know it was your favourite.”

“It’s okay,” Diane replied. She found the big broom, sweeping the entire floor carefully, half for something to do, half to make sure they’d collected all the shards. She liked to walk around without shoes and this would make her feel more secure.

“I don’t think I ever knew why it was your favourite,” Nick said, examining one of the pieces.

“I don’t think I ever told you it was my favourite,” Diane said. _How did he know that?_

“You used it all the time,” Nick replied. “Even washed it when there were others available.”

Diane smiled, a spark of acknowledgement clear in the swirl of emotion circling her chest. _He noticed._ “It wasn’t always my favourite,” she said. “But it was David’s favourite, and so it became mine.”

Nick nodded, but his face still betrayed his discomfort. He couldn’t meet her eyes, and Diane’s heart squeezed at the sight.

“I’d rather you weren’t so hard on yourself,” she said quietly. “It was an accident. And I was the one who dropped it.”

Nick opened his mouth to object, but closed it again. He raised his eyes to meet hers, the longest gaze they’d shared in days. “Still,” he said finally, “I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Diane said, pulling her eyes away, the intensity too much to bear. “Well, how about you help me chose a new favourite?”

The idea came to her easily, and as she waited for Nick to reply, it grew on her. _Someone special to help with this._ She swallowed. _Something to remember him by._

“Certainly,” Nick replied. He moved over to the cabinet where the mugs were held, glancing at Diane as though asking for permission. She smiled at him, though it required more effort than it should.

Nick looked at each mug, pulling some out so he could reach those in the back. Diane admired his dedication to the task. He was looking at mugs they’d never even used while he was there.

“This one,” he said.

Diane glanced over. He’d pulled two mugs from the back of the cupboard. They were identical, both bearing a pattern of fish near the top. She couldn’t remember ever using them, which was why they were at the back of the cupboard.

“There’s two of them,” she said with a confused grin.

“Well,” Nick replied, handing one to her, “I thought maybe you don’t use these very often.”

“I don’t,” Diane replied. She wasn’t quite sure where he was going. She cupped her hands around the mug. It was strange doing it without the heat of the tea or coffee inside. Glancing over she could see Nick doing the same. For some reason it hit her hard. The same mug.

“Please tell me if this is too strange an idea,” Nick said. “But perhaps if you don’t mind me taking this mug home, it could be my favourite mug, too.”

Diane’s heart heaved, and she felt her chest follow, dragging air into her lungs. She was concentrating hard on breathing, and though she saw Nick’s mouth move, she didn’t hear his voice.

“What?” she managed.

“Diane?” Nick’s voice said, and he was closer. “Is it…I’m sorry, is it too much?”

“No,” Diane whispered. She swallowed, blinking hard, but tears blinded her. _Good grief, am I crying again?_ Gentle fingers eased the mug from her hands and she clenched fists around empty air. Before she could decide what to do, Nick’s arms came around her and Diane melted into them, wrapping her arms fiercely around his waist. Something was different – he was taller. _He’s wearing shoes._ That tiny detail made her heart twist again. How would she deal with his absence? With his hands wrapping around a mug identical to hers, on the other side of a vast ocean, too far for her eyes to meet his across the rim of the mug? It was too difficult to consider, so instead she clung to him, pressing her face into his pullover. His arms were tight around her, supporting rather than restricting, and Diane fancied he wanted her close as much as she wanted to be close.

But as always, she didn’t say anything. Such a coward, Diane berated herself again, breathing deeply against Nick’s chest. She wanted her to keep this scent with her forever. Perhaps if she didn’t change the sheets for a while, she could keep Nick close for a precious few days longer than she otherwise would.

“Diane,” Nick murmured. His voice rumbled through her and around her. She didn’t respond, waiting for him to continue. “I am sorry to have upset you.” He paused. “I merely thought it might be a good way to remain,” he swallowed, “connected.”

“It is,” Diane managed.

Nick’s arms relaxed, his hand sweeping slowly up and down her back. It was comforting. Diane didn’t move for a long time, until she felt Nick kiss the top of her head, the press lingering as it so often did now. This was the pattern; he would kiss her as they released their embrace, one or both then beginning an unrelated conversation.

The first part followed the pattern – they eased away, the loss of heat and pressure a now familiar ache. Diane was still blinking, the light against her eyes taking some adjustment. Nick was looking at her, his blue eyes calm and fonder than Diane recalled noticing. The atmosphere grew expectant until Diane tore her eyes away, already derating herself for her cowardice. She was casting around for something to say when Nick broke the silence.

“Will you look at something for me?”

Diane blinked. “Sure,” she said.

Nick walked into the corridor towards the bedroom. Diane had no idea what he was going to get, but she felt a little silly standing in the middle of the kitchen on her own, so she paced towards the couch, intending to sit down. It was hardly comfortable, being so on edge, so she stood again, walking back towards the kitchen. She’d barely taken three steps when Nick reappeared with something in his hand. She noticed he’d taken off his shoes again.

_What a strange detail to notice._

“Photos?” Diane asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “Emma returned them yesterday.” Nick was fiddling with the edge of the paper wallet, running his finger along the flap with the kind of nervous energy Diane was unused to seeing from him. “I’d like you to see them.”

Diane frowned, but extended her hand. It was an unusual phrase, plus Nick was nervous.

It made her nervous.

As she opened the envelope, Nick eased his weight onto the arm of the sofa, eyes on Diane. The scrutiny was disconcerting, but she pulled the photos clear. The first photo was so familiar it immediately made her smile.

“It’s Gander,” she murmured, flicking the photo over to show Nick.

He flashed her a smile but said nothing.

Diane continued to move through the photos, examining each. The first few were of the Academy, wide shots of the cafeteria and the crowd, the classroom in which they slept. As they moved on, Diane found a very familiar face.

“Hey, this is me,” she said with a smile at Nick. He returned it, but his mouth was tight and the smile disappeared almost immediately.

Diane continued to look at him for a moment.

“Please continue,” Nick murmured.

Diane hesitated, but tucked the top photo under the pile. The next photo showed her sitting on the wall beside the Academy entrance, facing away from the camera. Then the main street of Gander, with Diane in the foreground, pointing at the Tim Horton’s. Diane found her heart speeding up and she moved through the photos faster. Diane on the edge of the lake. Diane at the screech in. Diane at the lookout…and again…and again…and again. The last photo she held with shaking fingers. Her face again, this time on the bus back to the airport. She swallowed hard.

“I don’t even remember you taking most of these,” she whispered, eyes still on the photos.

“I know,” Nick replied quietly.

Diane didn’t say anything for a long moment. She was looking at her own image, the last photo Nick had taken. It was blurry, and not all of her face was visible, but it was arresting, nevertheless. The expression on her face was clear.

“Do you remember the bus?” Nick asked.

Diane nodded, tracing the shape of her own face. “Vividly,” she replied. Nick didn’t say anything, and she found herself commenting, “I look sad.”

“I was sure you were going to cry,” Nick replied.

“So was I,” Diane whispered.

“It was hard leaving Gander,” Nick said, and his tone had changed.

Diane swallowed and nodded, not trusting her voice.

_This feels like a moment._

_Important._

“It wasn’t just everything that had happened,” Nick said. There was a tone in his voice. Determined. Diane felt her heart beat faster again. Nick was rarely determined. Far more often he acquiesced, but this felt different. He was doing what Diane had berated herself for not having the courage to do, and she knew he would only try once. This was her chance. She swallowed, remembering the bitterness of regret each time she had failed to act.

_Oh God._

“It wasn’t?” Diane whispered. The photo started to shake. “Why did you take so many photos of me?”

The photos were still shaking, and Diane couldn’t take her eyes off it. She wanted to look up at Nick, but her fear froze her. Tears of frustration welled.

_Don’t let me go._

Just as Diane thought she couldn’t take it any longer, another hand moved into her vision, carefully stilling her fingers. Her indrawn breath bore a single name.

_Nick._

“I think you know,” Nick said quietly, curling his hand over his. He eased the photos from Diane’s hand, the soft whump of them landing somewhere soft a background to her beating heart. She allowed herself to be pulled gently forward, until Nick’s pullover brushed the back of her hand. His other hand rose, cupping her chin, encouraging it upwards.

Diane closed her eyes as her face rose, her courage failing her at this most important of hurdles.

“Diane,” Nick murmured. “Will you please look at me?”

It took all she had to breathe in and, as she exhaled, open her eyes.

Nick was there.

As he always had been, waiting in front of her. Not pushing, just…waiting.

His eyes were kind.

“Do you know?” Nick whispered.

“You were going to miss me,” Diane said. “You wanted to remember.”

Nick smiled, a small expression as his eyes roamed her face. “It was more than that,” he said quietly. His hands shifted, one enclosing hers, nestled between their bodies, the other sliding along her jaw. “And now after a further twelve days, I find it is everything.”

“Everything?” Diane whispered.

Nick nodded. His eyes were kind, as always, and encouraging. Diane knew now was the moment.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “I haven’t…it has been a long time.”

“I know,” Nick replied.

“You live across the ocean,” Diane added.

“I do,” Nick said, his thumb caressing her cheek.

A sob and a wet laugh burbled up in Diane’s throat. “It’s complicated,” she whispered. Her free hand reached out, and Nick flinched as it landed on his waist, fingertips digging in a little. “And I don’t even care,” she added.

She moved, and Nick moved, until they met in the middle and the world ceased to shift at all.

His lips were soft, and warm. Diane felt his breath catch as their mouths settled together. She swayed closer, fingers digging into his back and Nick disentangled their fingers, instead wrapping his arms around to pull her body flush with his. Diane felt heat run through her body as her mouth and Nick’s stroked slowly, each careful even as their hands pulled their bodies closer. The release was a relief, flowing through Diane as Nick pressed against her without restraint.

It was right.

Nick wanted this too, and from the gentle way he was cradling her, Diane felt safer than she could remember being. She pulled in the sensations, as many as she could manage to notice. Nick’s hands on her back, firm strokes, fingers wide. He tasted minty, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming out to the kitchen this morning. His breathing was unsteady, and Diane felt a powerful rush that she could feel that. Such details…she’d forgotten what it was like, to know things because they were happening so very close to you.

When the kiss broke they didn’t move, arms still holding them close. Diane didn’t open her eyes; she knew what this meant to her, but Nick hadn’t said anything concrete.

_Stop it._

The thought was unexpected, and she frowned.

“You’re frowning,” Nick murmured.

Diane’s eyes flew open. “I am?” she asked. Her voice sounded almost panicked and she smiled, hoping it would cover the wince.

“You were,” Nick amended.

“Ah,” Diane said. “Well, I was thinking, and…”

A bunch of things happened at once. Nick nodded, pressing his lips together. His arms loosened, his gaze averted, and Diane could almost feel him retreating into himself.

_Oh dear._

“No,” she blurted, “No, I wasn’t…” Why were the words so hard? She took a deep breath, locking her eyes on Nick so she would see his reaction, whatever it would be.

“Nick,” Diane said, feeling heat creep up her cheeks at the conversation she was about to begin. He turned to look at her, which was a start, so she continued, not entirely sure how she was going to phrase this. But after all this she couldn’t let her courage fail her again.

“I wanted to kiss you on the bus,” she said, her voice thickening immediately. “And on the plane, and then we ended up here, and it didn’t seem like a good idea because we were going to be stuck here, and then things got complicated, and you were being so nice, and I didn’t know what that meant, but when you said this is everything, I have no idea what that means.” She paused, pulling in a breath and watched Nick’s face anxiously, hoping he could make sense of the mess of words she’d just blurted out.

He had listened, she saw that much; and now as she waited, his expression changed again. His mouth softened, and he ducked again to kiss her, a reaction she’d not expected but was not entirely opposed to, either. It ended far too soon, by her estimation, but Nick clearly had something to say.

“Remember how I’ve had a few calls with work?” Nick said.

“Yes?” Diane replied, not entirely sure how or why they’d taken that conversational leap.

“And they weren’t so keen on me staying in isolation here,” Nick said. “After all that time in Gander.”

“I remember,” Diane replied.

“Well, the last time I spoke to them, they fired me,” he said simply.

Diane’s mind went blank. “Fired you?” she whispered.

Nick nodded. “Effective immediately. They’ve offered to pay me out my holidays, which sounds generous but is a legal requirement.” He suppressed a smile, though just enough peeked out for Diane to see. “Their offer to cancel my contract was significantly more, which I accepted.”

“Oh,” Diane replied. She wasn’t sure what response Nick was looking for, exactly, but he was clearly heading towards having a point.

“I thought I might go home, pack up some things and spend a few months taking that holiday time,” Nick drew a deep breath, “here.”

“Here?” Diane asked. “In America?”

“In Dallas,” Nick replied, “though more specifically,” he smiled again, and kissed her gently, “I might mean, right here.”

“With me?” Diane checked.

“With you,” Nick replied. “There are a lot of companies in Dallas that do more or less the same thing as I have been doing, and I could meet with them. See if they’d be willing to hire me.”

“So you might move here,” Diane whispered.

“I might consider it,” Nick said. He was watching carefully as he added, “If that was something you might want?”

Tears rose fast and hard at the confirmation Diane had barely allowed herself to hope.

“Yes please,” she whispered, leaning in once more to kiss Nick.

Who would have thought such an outcome would even have been possible.

“Oh no,” Diane said, laughing at the answer to that question and also Nick’s expression as she pulled out of their kiss. “Oh,” she said, cupping his face with one palm, “no, no, not you.” She smiled, kissing him again, marvelling at how easily he seemed to sink into it. He chased her when she pulled away, an action that thrilled her no end, but she had to explain.

“I was just thinking how unexpected this situation is,” Diane said. “And then I remembered how hard Emily has insinuated that things would get here.”

“She did?” Nick replied. “Well that does explain some things.”

“You’d better brace yourself,” Diane told him, “she’s going to be unbearable.”

“At the risk of sounding frightfully corny,” Nick replied, “I shall bear it with you by my side.”

Diane grinned into their kiss, her heart finally easing. Whatever this would end up being, it was a beginning. Finally, finally, it was a beginning.

\- END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beautiful readers, I trust this finds you as safe and well as can be expected right now.
> 
> You may have noticed the chapter above took quite a large leap chronologically speaking, and you're right, we've skipped several days. I agonised over this decision, but I feel like its the right one for me as the writer and you as the reader. Detailed though my notes are for the intervening days, my concentration is fairly shot right now, and I simply can't do justice to the nuances of this relationship as I would like to do. As much as I would love to explore every moment, realistically it's a cascade of near-misses, missed-opportunities and emotional angst, all of which we've explored pretty deeply already.
> 
> In lieu of those days, I present you with Day 12, the day on which Nick finally gathers his courage and Diane hers. It was always going to be this day, it gives them some time to talk about some things with fresh eyes before joining the real world again. A few things have been tweaked to tie up loose ends, but otherwise this is the Day 12 that was always meant to be.
> 
> I see myself writing some short pieces in this universe in the future - Diane telling Emily about Nick, Nick meeting Emily, the first time they leave the flat, Nick leaving for London (and returning!). They'll be added as parts of a series I'll create when the first one is done.
> 
> Thank you all for your support and patience as I write this, and your wonderful comments as we've made our way from Gander to Dallas and onwards.
> 
> Love, Blue


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